


Worthy of Being Pleased: A Modern Take on Pride & Prejudice

by honey_and_smoke



Series: Worthy of Being Pleased [1]
Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 77,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27443299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_and_smoke/pseuds/honey_and_smoke
Summary: It’s a tale so perfect that two centuries later, we’re still talking about it: Handsome, rich, reserved guy meets a pretty, middle-class, vibrant girl. They get off on the wrong foot, and keep going wrong until confronting their pride and prejudice forces each to make some changes.In this contribution to that classic story, Will Darcy is a wealthy architect helping his happy-go-lucky friend Charlie Bingley convert his new purchase of Netherfield Park into an eco resort and spa. Charlie has fallen for Jane Bennet, the estate agent who sold him the place. That's how Will Darcy first meets Lizzie Bennet, a landscape architect. It...doesn't go great at first. Then again, it’s not about how things start, but how they finish.
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy, Jane Bennet & Charles Bingley
Series: Worthy of Being Pleased [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2063991
Comments: 109
Kudos: 278





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> I had fun writing this, and I really appreciate all of the kind encouragement I received. Thank you so much for reading!

Lizzie Bennet breathed in the rich Autumn air. The weather was cooling down, and nothing pleased her more than the sight of the trees starting to turn color. The clean air, so different from London where she sometimes stayed with her beloved elder sister Jane, filled up her lungs and flowed around her as she rode her horse Marigold through the fields of Meryton. The house at Longbourn Farm was so loud sometimes. Her father would trap himself in his office, cram-jammed with books, when his wife and three youngest daughters got going. Lizzie’s answer was to be outdoors -- space made it easier to love her mother, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia. London could never be for her -- Longbourn was home. 

As beautiful as this late September day was, this wasn’t just a pleasure ride. Jane was an estate agent who focused on American expats moving to London. Their mother, Franny Bennet, was an American -- she had met their father when he had been abroad in New York. Though Lizzie and Jane had been born in America, the family moved back home when Mr. Bennet’s father died and Longbourn passed into his hands. The girls lost their American accents -- they were only 3 and 4 after all, but Mr. Bennet always said that they had that “it” that Americans had. That confidence and self-assurance that all things were possible with application. Since Jane understood Americans, she became the top agent for that clientele at her firm. This time, though, Jane had done a local deal. It was unusual and exciting on a few different fronts. Jane had brokered the deal on Netherfield Park for a handsome Scotsman, and Lizzie was on her way over to meet them both at the property. She was excited for Jane because this was a huge deal, both for Jane and Meryton itself. 

Meryton was not Jane’s area of estate expertise, nor were native Londoners her bread and butter. But she met this Charlie Bingley at a party and learned that he and his family had just sold their chain of hotels in the north of England and Scotland. He was looking for an old manor to turn into a boutique hotel and spa -- “something new that would be my own creation”, he’d said. Jane told him about Netherfield Park, and Charlie had been intrigued. Meryton was a quaint little village that made for a great day trip -- there were artisans with shops, inventive cafes, and pleasant hikes to be had. It was about a 40 minute drive from London, and had an efficient train line that could go from Victoria to Meryton in only about an hour and 15 minutes. Charlie could see the possibilities. He’d come on a scouting trip with Jane, and then asked her for another. He’d brought a couple of experts with him a third time, and they discussed the ins and outs of renovating the listed building. It was a Palladian mansion of local interest and national heritage. It would not be inexpensive to take on this project, but Bingley, eager for something of his own making and in possession of a new, large fortune, saw nothing but potential. With Jane’s help, he made the purchase.

There ended Jane’s professional interest in the deal, but not her personal. This was the other reason Lizzie was excited for her. Charlie was warm and engaging, and once her comission had been paid and a couple of weeks passed, he asked her out. They went out 3 times in the first week, and Jane gushed as she told Lizzie about how Charlie did this, or Charlie did that. “He’s not like anybody else I’ve ever met,” she told Lizzie as they drank tea on the couch in Jane’s apartment in Hammersmith. Lizzie had smiled at this. Jane was now 30, and did not give her heart easily, had only had a couple of close-to-serious boyfriends. If Charlie had caught her interest, Lizzie knew he had to be a special guy. They had now been dating for three weeks, and Charlie, having wrapped up some final business with the sale of his family’s hotels, was ready to devote himself to Netherfield.

And now, Lizzie rode across the fields to meet this special guy. Jane had spoken about her beloved sister to Charlie, telling him that nobody knew the environs of Meryton better than Lizzie. Charlie couldn’t wait to meet her and pick her brain about the land around Netherfield, and local business. In the distance, Lizzie could make out a green sports car and a black Range Rover in front of the manor and a few people milling about the entrance. She urged Marigold into a gentle trot and made her way to meet them.

As she neared the small group of people, Lizzie smiled brightly when she saw Jane. Jane’s beautiful face lit up with recognition at Marigold and Lizzie. Mrs. Bennet was fond of telling her friends how beautiful Jane was, how Jane was sure to make a great marriage because of her lovely figure and deep golden wavy locks. Lizzie rolled her eyes whenever she heard these conversations -- Jane was not horseflesh. But it was hard to argue with the truth of it: Jane was a stunning woman. She was also a deeply good person. Charlie had better understand that, Lizzie had thought fiercely. She appraised the man standing closest to Jane. He wore jeans and a zipped jumper, and had a head of tousled sandy hair. So far so good -- he really was cute. When he heard a horse’s hooves, he turned away from the house and looked at Lizzie, beaming up at her. Lizzie was sold, and she smiled back. And he was friendly. Also very good.

“Hullo there!” he called up to her, and Jane and Charlie walked over to Lizzie and Marigold. The others looked on at them. Lizzie noted that both women had their arms crossed over their fronts. They seem like they’re going to be a real treat, Lizzie thought to herself.

The others were Charlie’s sisters, who literally could not believe this is what he’d chosen to spend his portion of the sale on, along with his oldest sister’s husband, who literally did not care, as long as he could get a beer and turn on the Manchester match soon. The last of the group was Charlie’s best friend, Will Darcy, who literally could not believe Charlie had blown this kind of capital on a money pit in a London backwater just to impress a girl. Jane Bennet was hot, don’t get him wrong. The whole thing was just so Charlie, but so much higher stakes than normal. His friend turned back to the house so nobody could see his face and rolled his eyes.

Caroline, Charlie’s younger sister, walked up to Will and joined him. “I completely agree with you, Will,” she purred, taking off her sunglasses, folding them and tucking them into her low-cut silk blouse. She had seen his eye roll and pounced at the chance to commiserate. Caroline was tall like Charlie, with a lithe figure shown off in tight skinny jeans. She dyed her long hair a straw-coloured blond. Will had never seen her without lipstick, even when he stopped by to pick up Charlie on early morning weekends from the Bingleys’ Kensington townhouse for a day of sport. Though Mr. and Mrs. Bingley had passed away, the townhouse remained the Bingley siblings’ hub. Will and Bingley had a long steady friendship, ever since meeting at Cambridge, and he knew their home almost as well as his own. He preferred to hang out there when Caroline was not around.

Will took a subconscious step away from Caroline. She was always too forward with him, and he didn’t like to encourage her beyond friendship. “Yes, well. We’re here now. Let’s see what it’s about.” He walked toward Jane and Charlie, with Caroline pouting behind him, making her way to her older sister Louisa and her husband Rob Hurst.

Charlie was effusively talking to Lizzie, “Wow, so you’re an architect, too!” He spun his head around looking for Will. “Will, hey, come here!” Lizzie looked up at Will’s approach and smiled politely. He was tall and well-built, with a head of dark hair cropped neatly, although she could see some curls wanting to break through. His face was serious and clean-shaven, and his deep brown eyes were somber. Lizzie noted his handsomeness.

Will strode up with purpose. “Hello, er, Miss Bennet.” He’d forgotten her first name, though Jane had mentioned it earlier. Charlie had not yet offered it.

Lizzie smiled now as if she found him amusing. Not the good kind of amusing, the look-at-this-arsehole kind of amusing. Her cheeks were pink from the exercise of the horse and her eyes were bright. “Hello, Mr. Darcy,” she said, gravely, and Charlie laughed. Then she said, “I’m Elizabeth, or you can call me Lizzie, if you like.” She spoke in a good-natured teasing voice, but Will was not in the mood.

“Elizabeth, then,” Will said. “Pleasure. I’m Will.” And he offered nothing more.

Shrugging internally, Lizzie said, “Shall we go into the house? I’d love to see the inside, we haven’t been in since we were children. Well, of course, Jane you’ve been inside lately.” Jane nodded and stepped up to take Marigold’s reins while her sister dismounted. Lizzie leaned over the horse’s neck and slipped her boots out of the stirrups. When she swung her leg over the horse’s rump, and slid down off the saddle, Will got a good view of her bum in its tan jodhpurs. Not bad. Still he turned away and contemplated the house while Charlie helped Lizzie find a good spot for Marigold. When he heard their steps crunching over the gravel, Will turned to take another look at Lizzie. 

She bore a small resemblance to Jane -- they had the same full, lush mouth, and were about the same height. Lizzie’s hair was dark and pulled into a low loose bun, and she carried her riding helmet in her hands now, looking earnestly up at the house, scanning the sides. Will calculated her attractiveness, measuring it against Jane’s. Jane was objectively hotter -- she had larger breasts and a graceful sway to her hips. Lizzie was more wiry, and seemed to spark with energy. Will looked away, not interested.

As they walked through the house, Will learned that Lizzie was actually a landscape architect, not an architect of buildings like himself. Charlie had asked Will to come and give his informal opinion first, and see if this project was something he wanted to take on, if his firm Darcy & deBourgh had the inclination to work outside of the city. Lizzie asked good questions, the kinds of questions Will himself would have asked if he didn’t have the audience of the Bingley sisters and now this horsey country girl listening to his every word. Will liked to take in a property quietly, feeling its energy, and then consult with the owner, learning what was important to them. He needed time to put things together, and the outcomes were always earning him accolades. He didn’t see the point in engaging until the group was gone and it was just him and Charlie. This project didn’t belong to the Bennet Sisters.

Or did it? Charlie was talking as if he wanted to engage this Elizabeth Bennet to work on the property! Again, Will turned his eyes toward a wall and rolled his eyes. Darcy & deBourgh did not retain a landscape architect -- they just contracted out to a handful of trusted partners when they needed to, as most of their properties in London didn’t need one. But seriously! First Jane Bennet got what must have been a sizable commission on this wreck of a manor, and now she brought her sister by, a sister who just happens to be a landscape architect? The gardens were enormous and surely Charlie, a complete sucker for a pretty face, would be completely taken in. Will could feel his face growing more and more severe, until he knew he was glowering. His little sister Georgiana was always telling him he needed to get better control over his facial expressions, but this was beyond the pale. Charlie wouldn’t know a gold digger if she walked up wearing a flashing sign.

Lizzie for her part, took in Netherfield Park with pleasure. She offered her opinions on how Charlie could integrate his property with the conservation lands that backed up to his property. They talked about what Charlie wanted his visitors to be able to do and experience when they stayed at Netherfield Park Resort. She took no notes, just looked out the windows in each room, thinking, laughing at Charlie’s good-natured and self-deprecating jokes. Caroline and Louisa trailed close to Will. Hurst had found a television in the kitchen and they’d left him there, glued to the pre-match commentary. 

Caroline latched onto Will’s disapproving silence and indignation. “This place is a complete dump. How can the last owner have done so little to update it!?”

“Quite right, Caro,” Louisa sniffed. “And the dankness!”

“Charlie’s really gotten himself into it this time,” Caroline said, and twined her arm into Will’s causing him to slow, and look down into her expectant face. Caroline was a tall woman, but Will still stood taller. “Can you help him? There’s no way he can do this without you. Not only are you the most brilliant architect in London, you know so much about estates because of Pemberley.” Her face glowed, and her voice went breathy when she mentioned his ancestral home. Pemberley had been his family’s since the 1600s, and each generation had lovingly kept the structure vibrant and viable. It was a gem of Derbyshire, and drew many visitors each year. While he and Georgie no longer spent much actual time living there, Pemberley was home, his north star.

“I’m not sure, Caroline,” Will said, pretending that he needed to adjust his left trainer’s laces, dropping her arm. “I’ll see if it’s a good fit. You know I love Charlie, but this is a lot. We’ll see.” And he rose from his crouch and walked closer to Charlie, Jane, and Lizzie, just wanting to get away from the icky feeling that always accompanied every interaction he had with Caroline. It had been decided that they would head outside and view the manor from behind. Charlie had some furniture being delivered that afternoon. The kitchen and bathrooms were functional, and he wanted to spend some time sleeping at Netherfield to see what it was like. Bedroom sets and some other furniture pieces for rent were being delivered by a designer and her team, and should be ready that night. Will had agreed to stay a few days. Fortunately Rob, Louisa, and Caroline weren’t going to stay longer than a day and would be off tomorrow morning. Then Will would be able to really think about whether or not he could help Charlie with this disaster.

They wandered the grounds for a bit, and then Lizzie made her good-byes. “Charlie, thank you so much for inviting me to take a look. I’d love to prepare some sketches and thoughts for your consideration.” She smiled at him. Caroline and Louisa stayed in the back, looking at the ruins of a pool that had been installed in the 70s, and from the looks of it, had never been updated since. Will followed Jane and Charlie as they walked Elizabeth to her horse.

Lizzie put her riding helmet on, tucking a few loose and unruly strands behind her ears and back into her messy bun. Marigold walked up to her owner from where she had been grazing in a little fenced-in side yard. Lizzie leaned her face against the horse’s muzzle and blew a few unself-conscious puffs of air into the horse’s nostrils, and the horse blew back. Despite himself, Will was charmed for a split second. She took the reins in hand and squared herself against the horse’s left side. “Oh, Charlie, um, could you give me a leg up?” Charlie looked at a loss. “I’m not sure how?” he said questioningly.

Will walked up to her. “Allow me,” he said. Elizabeth looked at him, surprised. “Thank you,” she said simply. She held her left leg bent in the air and Will firmly placed his hands on her ankle and knee. He could feel a buzz when he touched her, and wondered if she could feel it, too. She bounced a couple of times on her right leg, holding the reins against the horse’s neck. Instinctively, Will knew she would make her jump on the third bounce, and he wordlessly lifted her as she sailed up into the saddle. He could smell the horse’s earthy, sweet scent, and Lizzie’s own smell. It reminded him of clean, flowing water. He stepped back, averting his eyes.

Lizzie looked down at Will and once more gave a straightforward “thank you”. She walked Marigold away from the group and turned around to look back. “Are you all coming to the Harvest Festival tonight?”

Jane smiled, “Charlie and I definitely are, and I think the girls and Rob are, too. Will, are you going to come?”

Charlie laughed. “Will hates parties, but he’s got to come to this one. I’ve never been to a Harvest Festival, and I don’t want to think of him stuck at home alone while we’re enjoying it!”

Lizzie laughed, “It’s only the Social Event of the Season! See you there. Charlie, thanks again. I’m so happy you bought Netherfield. It’s diamond in the rough, and I know you’ve got the imagination and heart to shine it back up again. Jane, see you back at Longbourn.” With that, she urged Marigold into a slow trot. Jane and Charlie walked around the back of the house, but Will kept watching Lizzie. When she got some distance from the house and was back in the fields, he saw her break into an easy canter with the horse, riding off into the now warm midday.


	2. A Tolerable Feeling

When the Bennet Family walked into the Harvest Festival tent that night, they were greeted with cheers from many of their neighbors. The band was playing oldies that night, and Mrs. Bennet pulled Mr. Bennet’s hand onto the floor as they cranked out “Ruby Tuesday”. “Oh, come on, Tom! We have to dance to this one.” Mr. Bennet allowed himself to be dragged to the floor. They danced elegantly, moving easily and without thought. Franny Bennet loved dancing, and had made all the girls take lessons in the next town over. Lizzie’s main memory of the lessons, beyond basic mastery of the steps, was that there were never enough boys to go around.

Kitty and Lydia immediately headed for the bar and started flirting with the bartender, egging him on to mix ridiculous cocktails for him. Mary went and found them a table. Mary was 26, and Lizzie was pretty sure she would be a lifelong student -- she was on her PhD now. Lizzie bet that there would be another program after this, but to what end, none of the Bennets could say. Mary was a social justice warrior, and Jane always insisted Mary meant well. Mary’s version of being “woke” was so damn annoying, though, so pious and high-handed, that Lizze was certain Mary would sound offensive to the very groups she professed to be helping. Lizzie thought maybe leaving Meryton and settling in London would be good for Mary -- some exposure and diversity might actually make Mary understand how to support people in need.

Kitty and Lydia were bright and bubbly -- they fizzed with energy, like a newly opened bottle of Champagne. That was youth for you -- Kitty was 24 and Lydia just barely 23. Their skin was luminous, and their hair and makeup always impeccable. They worked at Meryton’s only salon. Kitty was a gifted hair colourist and Lydia a makeup artist and manicurist. Mary often rolled her eyes at what she perceived to be frivolousness, and they rolled their eyes right back at Mary’s inability to just fucking enjoy herself. There was a military base not far, and word around town that day was that several soldiers were going to be at the festival tonight. Kitty and Lydia took their drinks and went out into the street, looking for camouflage print in the crowd. Who didn’t love a hot soldier?

Jane and Lizzie got drinks from the bartender -- he was an old friend from their school days who’d had the hots for Jane and gave them a round on the house with a wink. Jane gave him one of her million watt smiles and she and Lizzie found a large table that would eventually hold all their party, and maybe Charlie’s, too.

“He’s really great, Janie,” Lizzie began.

Jane blushed and nodded, looking down at the table. “I really do like him. He’s everything you’d want a guy to be: great manners, friendly, handsome, interested in the world. It’s all moving so fast, it’s so different for me.”

Lizzie placed her hand over Jane’s. “You deserve it. You deserve every good thing the world can do for you. And he’s obviously nuts about you.”

“Oh, Lizzie Lou. Thank you.” Jane used her old nickname for her younger sister. “I just want to take it slow and see what happens. We need to get to know each other and see if we’re really compatible. But yes. I’m mad about him too, so far. I think this could really be the start of something.”

The tent started to fill with more people, and the sun dipped lower, with the Harvest Moon on the rise. Their good friends and neighbors, the Lucas family, filtered into the tent, and Mr. and Mrs. Lucas sat down with Mr. and Mrs. Bennet at the far end of the table. The Lucas kids all dispersed to the bar and dance floor, but their oldest daughter, Charlotte walked over to Lizzie and Jane and hugged them both. Charlotte had always been their particular friend, but it was really Lizzie that Charlotte loved and understood. Jane was so beautiful and so fucking nice, and sometimes Charlotte just wanted to be sarcastic and merciless. Lizzie was always there for it.

The Bingley party eventually showed up. It turned out they all came. Hurst’s first stop was at the bar, where he got a beer and some kind of liquor. He found a table in the corner and shot the liquor down his throat and chased it with the beer, looking for all the world like he could fall asleep at any moment. Caroline and Louisa allowed Will to get them glasses of wine. Lizzie saw Caroline sneer at the plastic cup as if it was something revolting. It made Lizzie chuckle. Wine was wine.

Charlie had come right up to the table and let Jane introduce him around. Lydia and Kitty were out on the floor dancing wildly with some soldiers they’d managed to rustle up outside the tent, but Jane pointed them out to Charlie. Mary nodded at him, looking back at her phone where she was engaged in a Twitter war with some pro-Brexit group. Charlotte smiled up at Charlie politely, and Lizzie gave him a warm smile. Mrs. Bennet practically purred as she saw how Charlie looked at Jane. She’d googled Charlie as soon as she heard about his buying Netherfield. He was worth at least £8 million pounds as a result of the sale of his family’s hotels, and that was in addition to whatever money he already had. And now he’d come to make his fortune in Meryton. Mr. Bennet only nodded at him knowingly and raised his beer in greeting. 

Charlie pulled Jane to her feet and onto the dance floor, and other couples followed as the band began a medley of Beatles tunes. The alcohol had been flowing, and everybody loved oldies at a party such as this. They were an ice breaker.

Lizzie scanned the room and saw that the Long girls had come home for the weekend, and that more soldiers from the nearby base had come. Will and Bingley’s sisters stood on the periphery, not too far from the table at which Hurst was now slouched. They were clearly above this local display of merriment. Lizzie went up to the bar and grabbed another round for herself and Charlotte. When she returned, Lizzie leaned in conspiratorially and asked her friend about this new guy she’d been seeing. They’d been seeing each other for nearly half a year, not long after Charlotte had moved up to London, and Charlotte explained that she was going to tell him they either had to break up or get married. “I don’t have time to waste right now,” Charlotte said emphatically. She was not a romantic, and she was 35, beyond ready to start her family. “Well, is he somebody you could really see being with forever, Char?” Lizzie asked.

“I mean, he’s a good man. He has his flaws, but I don’t think there’s such a thing as the perfect man. I know him well enough to know he’ll be a generous and loving father, and he treats me well. Isn’t that a good foundation?” Charlotte took a sip of her wine, and tilted her head at Lizzie, with one eyebrow raised.

Lizzie narrowed her eyes at Charlotte, who raised her eyebrow even higher. They held their gazes for a moment, then dissolved into laughter at each other, happy and buzzed on their drinks. Charlotte knew that Lizzie was a believer, and over the years had heard many of Lizzie’s “I’d rather be alone forever than marry someone who isn’t a perfect fit” rants after breakups, or sloppy drunk girls’ nights.

Will, for his part, hated parties, hated festivals, and he didn’t particularly love his company. Caroline and Louisa were busy making sport of the locals -- a bunch of low-class soldiers, hayseeds, and women with no real beauty or taste. They cackled at their brother’s new neighbors, and Will, finally unable to take it anymore, wandered around the room, killing time. His eye zeroed in on Lizzie Bennet.

She was talking animatedly with a plain looking woman who wore her hair in a low ponytail. Lizzie clearly cleaned up well. The riding clothes and sloppy hair were gone, and she wore form fitting black jeans and a jumper with its hem partially tucked into her waistband. She had on black suede ankle boots, and her dark brown hair glossed down to her shoulder blades. It shimmered in the warm light of the tent. Her dark eyes looked bright and happy as she spoke to her friend, laughing, and listening kindly as they clearly caught up after a long absence. Will watched her discreetly, when he heard Caroline’s voice and felt her hot breath in his ear. He recoiled slightly as she said, “I bet I can guess what you’re thinking.”

“I should think not,” he said, clearing his voice.

Caroline pressed on. She wore a short skirt and high heeled boots. Some of the soldiers were eyeing her, wondering if she belonged to Will. She ignored them, but Will noticed she arched her back slightly, causing her breasts to pop up underneath her cropped leather jacket. _She’s all yours, fellows,_ Will thought to himself.

“You’re thinking how ridiculous it would be if you had to spend even one more night like this, and I totally agree. When we could be in London! A friend of mine is opening up the most incredible little night club in Knightsbridge. Soooo exclusive. I would love to take you there sometime.”

Will said, “Actually, no. That’s not what I was thinking. I was thinking what a pleasure it is to look at a woman with a beautiful face and intelligent eyes as she’s talking with a friend.” Caroline followed his eyes and landed on Lizzie Bennet talking to her ugly-ass friend. “Lizzie Bennet, well, well, well. That _is_ a surprise.” She rolled her eyes and walked away. A soldier caught her by the elbow and asked her to dance. Looking pointedly at Will, she nodded her head and proceeded out to the floor with the man. _Finally, she’s gone,_ Will thought. Caroline had never been his favorite person, but lately she’d been making his skin crawl with her constant hints. Now she was wrapping herself around a strange man, grinding him subtly to a DJ’s music as the band took a short break. _Caroline, I will never be jealous of a single thing you ever do,_ he thought to himself. He never sent any signals of interest toward her. He knew what she wanted was his family’s money and status. Her and any other woman he met. It was the only reason they showed any interest in him -- Will knew he was shit at talking to women. Money was the only reason for a woman to throw herself at him, and throw themselves at him most of them did.

Charlie left the floor as his sister entered it, as Jane headed off to the toilets for a quick break. He was breathing heavily and looked high. Charlie never did drugs and barely drank, so Will knew what he was high on. “Come on, Darcy. You’re standing around like an idiot. Get out there and dance!” Charlie nudged him with his shoulder.

“You know there’s no way that’s going to happen.” Will rolled his eyes.

“Come on. There are dozens of pretty lasses here. Pick somebody and just go have a dance -- it’ll do you good to remember that you’re young.”

“You want me to dance here, to this?”

“Darcy,” Charlie said warningly. “Come on. Try a little. It’s hard because you overthink it. I know you get shy. What about Lizzie Bennet? You’ve already met her, there’s no need to be nervous about her. She’s brilliant -- so fun. And pretty. Why not?”

“She’s not pretty enough to get me out on the dance floor. You know I don’t dance, let alone with country bumpkins who’re in love with their horses.”

“Christ, you can sound like such a prick sometimes, Darce. You know that’s insane. If I wasn’t so into Jane, I’d ask Lizzie out.” Charlie had caught his breath finally, and across the room, they saw Jane emerge from the restrooms. She was flushed and beautiful in the party lights. “Okay, that’s enough. I’m going back to Jane. You do you, Will.” He gave his friend a pointed, but not unkind look-- he knew Will was bad at socializing, but he wasn’t going to stand around listening to this rubbish while he could be dancing with Jane.

A few moments later, Lizzie brushed past Will, looking him briefly in the eye, with a smirk on her lips. _Had she heard him?_ He considered the conversation he’d just had with Charlie -- what had he said about Elizabeth Bennet exactly? -- and a feeling of panic came over him. He knew he’d sounded like a fucking arsehole. He had just wanted Charlie to back off. No. There was no way she could have heard what he said. The music had been loud, there were easily two hundred people in the tent now, laughing and talking to each other. Lizzie sat back down with her friend, looked over at him for a split second, and laughed as she recounted something to the other woman. Will walked over to the bar and ordered a whisky. He groaned to himself and shot it down his throat, and gestured for another. Why had he let Bingley drag him here?

Will maintained his station at the bar and watched the denizens of Meryton enjoy their harvest celebration. Two wild, beautiful young women who bore a resemblance to Jane and Lizzie gyrated on the dance floor with a series of built looking men, probably soldiers. A loud woman sat at Lizzie’s table, talking about “Jane’s good fortune”. Charlie kept on the floor with Jane all night. Lizzie danced with a few blokes she clearly knew well, laughing, and letting them spin her dramatically. She did not look at him the entire night, which was unfortunate, because now he had a pleasant warm feeling in his chest whenever he looked at _her._


	3. Thrown Together

The morning after the Harvest Festival, Caroline drove off with the Hursts in her shining black Range Rover. Caroline had apparently had it with Will and barely spoke to him over coffee and toast that morning, which was fine with him. He’d had too much whisky last night, and wanted to forget everything about the evening except for one part of it -- Elizabeth Bennet and her laughing, bright eyes. Even then, Will had no idea what to do with this information. She was pretty, so what? Just another pretty girl.

As they waved goodbye in the driveway, Charlie turned to Will and said, “Okay, thank the good Lord they’re gone. Do you want to go over the house properly now?”

Will breathed a sigh of relief. This is what he was good at. The men went back inside, and Will grabbed a pad of graph paper from his bag on the hall table. They went over the house top to bottom, talking about how to integrate the spa into the house, and what kind of area to break apart for the back of the house services. The pool was unfortunately situated, right off the kitchen. The kitchen itself was archaic -- built for a home that ran with 30 servants, so size was in its favor, but not much else. Its layout had been created before electricity, after all. This place really hadn’t been updated in any serious way in decades. But on the other hand, the lack of updating had also preserved much of its original charm and features. Will could work with this.

As they discussed how many guest rooms Charlie was envisioning, he paused and looked out the window. “I’m going to invite Jane over tonight. I think she’ll stay the night.”

“Have you had…” Will asked.

“No, no. We haven’t gone there yet. But after last night, I think she’ll want to stay. It was a really good night. But I’m going to see if she wants to invite Lizzie to stay, so it won’t be so awkward.” 

“I’m awkward?”

“No, not that!” Charlie laughed. “A lass and two blokes. It could be awkward for her. It would be good to round it up to a nice, even foursome. And you like Lizzie well enough, right?”

“She’s fine. She won’t bother me.” Will felt that buzz again.

“Well, I hope it’s better than just not feeling bothered. She’s pretty lush, Will. Try to chat her up.” Charlie rolled his eyes at Will’s lack of game, and pulled out his phone to ring up Jane and ask her and Lizzie to stay for a few nights at Netherfield. After that he drove down to the shop for food and drink for his guests.

Will for his part got to sketching some options for the manor. His firm largely did new buildings, but he had some experience with renovations on listed buildings. It made him feel as if he was home at Pemberley, thinking about ways to balance the new and old.

When the Bennet sisters rolled into the driveway a few hours later, it seemed Lizzie had the same idea as him: exploratory sketching and planning. The two came inside and Charlie showed them each to a bedroom where they stashed their bags. Jane went into the kitchen with Charlie, smiling, and they talked about what to make for dinner. Charlie had also rented a grill and a fire pit, and he and Jane set about preparing a meal. Elizabeth was already walking outside to consider the landscape, a bag of tools slung over her shoulder.

Will walked over to the window and watched her taking pictures of the house with her phone and jotting things down on a clipboard. He saw her working with an open reel measuring tape and pausing to look into the distance. Elizabeth set her hands on her hips and turned slowly toward the house, scanning the windows. Will pulled back. She’d felt him watching her.

About an hour later, she came inside and joined him in what had once been the drawing room. Charlie had pulled the television from the kitchen in there earlier that morning, and the rental company had dropped off deep couches and tables. Lizzie came into the room and nodded at him politely before selecting a chair at the opposite end of the dining table from him. She spread out her notes and pulled out a tablet on which she began scrawling and tapping with a stylus. Will tried hard not to look at her while she worked so she wouldn’t notice his staring, but eventually, he realized she was completely absorbed in her work. Lizzie wasn’t even looking at him, though they shared the same table. Jane stuck her head in the room and offered them tea, which they both accepted. She carried a tray into the room five minutes later, and as Will fixed his cup, he watched Jane lean over Lizzie’s work. They made a pretty picture.

“That’s lovely, Lizzie -- I can see what you’re picturing here. If you relocate the pool, you can use this space closer to the house for a quieter terrace. Were you thinking people could sit there after their spa treatments?”

Lizzie nodded and showed Jane some pictures from her tablet. “Yeah, can’t you just picture it? It’s almost like creating an active wellness zone and a restorative wellness zone. I think it would really work.”

Will sat back down and tried hard to ignore the two of them, but now he was picturing Lizzie’s vision and he had to agree: it would be peaceful, but still engaging, and would provide different options for experience. It lined up with what his own preliminary drawings suggested: the pool needed to be moved to make this place work as a resort and retreat. So the Bennets weren’t idiots. Just opportunists.

Jane fixed Lizzie a cup of tea and then made one for herself. “And Will, how is your preliminary work going? Do you think you’ll take this project on?”

He was startled to hear himself addressed. “At present, I’m unsure. It’s a great deal of work, and I’m unconnected in this part of the world.”

Lizzie laughed. “This part of the world? It’s only forty minutes to London!”

“Sure, forty minutes is nothing to a girl driving home on a weekend, but it’s a lot to a bunch of builders who don’t want to leave town. And I don’t know any of the builders or workers in this area.”

Lizzie laughed. “Spoken like a city boy. As if there are no skilled builders around Meryton.”

“Are there?” Will said this in earnest, not meaning to sound like a knob. 

“I suppose it depends on your definition of skilled, Mr. Darcy. Could a local bumpkin do your drawings justice? Only you could say.” Her tone was light, and the expression on her lovely face stayed pleasing, but her words were direct and sharp.

She had heard him last night at the party. Shame flared up in his chest, but it made him feel defensive rather than apologetic. Will wasn’t used to apologizing for much of anything. He said, “I don’t mean to imply there are no skilled craftsmen locally. I just think a job of this magnitude is going to require more than Charlie thinks.”

“I’ll grant your point, Sir. This will be quite a job,” she sipped her tea and looked back down at her work, head tilted considering something Will couldn’t see.

Jane stepped away from her sister’s side to go back in the kitchen. “Charlie’s very fortunate to have a friend who can advise him so well. Listen, you two. Don’t work too hard -- dinner will be in about an hour. We thought we’d eat outside by the fire pit.”

“Do you need help, Jane?”

“No, no. We’ve got it, darling,” said Jane, and floated back to Charlie in the kitchen, who Will could hear clanking around with the range. When Jane walked in, he said something that made her laugh. It was a charming noise.

Will opened his mouth as if to continue their conversation, but Lizzie’s head was bent over her papers and tablet again, lost in thought. He watched her a moment longer and then turned to his own calculations.

That night Charlie carved and served them steak and monopolized the Bennet sisters in conversation. Will would look for his openings, but when he had them, he felt his tongue tied. Lizzie looked lively in the glow of the fire, and laughed as Charlie refilled her wine glass. Will watched her wrap her jacket and scarf more tightly around herself and look up at the night sky while Charlie and Jane snuggled closer to each other on the chaise. Will and Lizzie were at the opposite ends of a couch, and he thought about what it would be like to gather her in his arms and keep her warm, saying nothing, just holding her protectively. This thought startled him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such an idea about a woman. And Elizabeth Bennet seemed like she didn’t need protection of any sort.

Women he dated in London satisfied his needs to a degree. He met them through work, through friends from university. Will would go out on a few dates, take them to the best restaurants and bars, sleep with them. It never lasted more than a month -- he always broke it off when he had the depressing feeling of not connecting with the women. Some of them were eager and willing. Some played it cool. But no matter how they acted, all the women knew who he was and what he had. They always said yes when he asked them out. But it never worked out. Until that night, Will had never met a woman he wanted to hold, and lock eyes with as a fire blazed next to them. Charlie started to tell the sisters a story about a time at Cambridge when he got so pissed that Will had to carry him home from a party, Will stood up suddenly, wanting to shake the image of Lizzie Bennet in his arms out of his head. He took a few steps away from the fire pit and looked into the dark starry night. 

Jane watched his back for a moment and laughed at the conclusion of Charlie’s story. Will had wound up first dragging Charlie, then trying to fireman lift him, and then eventually ended finding a hand truck to prop Charlie up on. Charlie only remembered the fireman lift part, but heard about the hand truck from at least a dozen people the next day. 

“Lizzie,” Jane said. “Did you point out Oakham Mount to Will yet? That’s part of the protected land area around here.”

“No, I didn’t,” Lizzie said. “We didn’t really get a chance to talk about the landscape yet, actually.” She stood up and walked over to Will.

“There,” she said, pointing to a large mass in the distance. The bright waning moon made it possible to make out the dark far off shape. “That’s a beautiful spot. You can see for miles around on a clear day. There are loads of wildflowers and rare grasses up there. They only grow in that spot around here. People have tried to cultivate them, but it’s no good. They only want to be in that spot.”

Will nodded. _Like you,_ he thought. _A little wildflower that belongs in Meryton._ “Perhaps I’ll get a chance to run over there sometime. I run.”

She nodded politely. “It’s about 10 kilometres away. A longer run, there and back, but worth the effort, I think.”

It occurred to Will that he could make it right between himself and Lizzie. He could apologize for what he said at the festival, and his backwardness in social settings. He was an introvert, but really, he always came across as a prat. Charlie had offered this helpful insight more than once. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, he heard a giggle behind him. When he turned to look, Charlie had fully pulled Jane onto his lap and was about to descend on her mouth. Will flushed and turned his head back to the dark night. His nerve was gone.

Lizzie laughed softly at Charlie and Jane. They stood for a moment looking into the dark. Behind them, they heard Jane and Charlie get up and head inside. Will and Lizzie gave them their privacy, and didn’t turn around until they heard the door open and close. “Shall we clean up?” she asked. Will nodded his assent.

They worked on the dishes and wiping down the counters. Will extinguished the fire in the pit, and when he came back in, he was about to ask Lizzie if she wanted to watch a movie, but found her hanging up the damp tea towel and yawning. “Well, good-night. See you in the morning. If you’d like to compare sketches or thoughts, let me know. I’d love to know what you’re thinking about where back of house operations would start and end.” And she walked up the stairs, leaving him watching her. He closed up the house and went upstairs to his room. He heard low female laughter as he passed Charlie’s door.

He brushed his teeth and thought about Lizzie, who at this very moment was settling in to sleep on the other side of his bedroom wall. She seemed like she was finished poking him about what he said at the festival. But she also seemed like she wanted nothing to do with him, other than professionally. This was new for him. For a brief idiotic moment, the word _lesbian_ flashed in his mind. No, he didn’t think that was it, not really, and he cursed himself for allowing his mind to go caveman like that. 

Was it a game to her? Was she trying to attract him by staying aloof? Did she seriously just not care? Tomorrow, he decided he would endeavor to figure it out. He felt himself drifting off, imagining her in his arms by firelight once more.


	4. Enemies

The Bennet Sisters were to stay at Netherfield Park one more night. Then Jane had to get back to London for work, and Lizzie had a project she was finishing up in a village outside of Basingstoke. When he walked into the kitchen that morning, Will found Lizzie scooping coffee into the machine. “Morning,” she said, staring off into space, clearly desirous of caffeine. Jane and Charlie were not downstairs yet, but Will assumed it could be a while. Charlie’s appetite was legendary.

While Lizzie stood at the coffee pot, willing it to brew faster, Will found yoghurt, fruit, and granola and set them out on the table, along with a pair of spoons. “Bowls?” Will asked. Lizzie began looking through the cabinets, and he watched her ass and the way her shirt lifted while standing on tiptoe to reach the higher shelves. Finally she found a pair of bowls and set them on the table wordlessly. Will nodded his thanks and covered his crotch with his hands for a few moments, regaining control. An image from his dreams last night flashed through his mind: Lizzie in his bed, her dark hair falling over his face as she straddled him. No. He was not going to do this, was not going to go there with her. It’d be nothing but an inconvenient distraction for him, and he’d just raise her hopes.

They ate in silence for a while when they heard the stairs creek, and then Charlie pulled Jane into the kitchen, flushed and happy looking. “What’s for breakfast? We’re starving!” Charlie said, and Jane turned pink, smiling to herself. Lizzie got two more bowls for them and asked them about their early dates in London, making conversation. Soon she had the couple laughing, and Will smiling to himself, trying to hide his expression with a tucked chin as Lizzie recounted her observations on London nightlife. Will contemplated the silence between himself and Lizzie, before Charlie and Jane came downstairs. It hadn’t been uncompanionable, but why hadn’t she tried speaking to him?

Around lunchtime, Will and Lizzie were comparing notes and thoughts about the scope of the work. Her plan was to leave everything with Charlie and let him decide if he wanted to pursue any of her ideas, no pressure. _Sure_ , Will thought. _No pressure. He’s shagging your sister, and is clearly madly in love with her. I wonder if he’ll ask any other landscapers to weigh in?_ He heard a car turn quickly into the gravel drive and heard determined boots walking up the front entrance. There was a key in the lock and suddenly Caroline was standing there in the drawing room, looking at the tableau of Will and Lizzie and their piles of papers, debating what to do about the decrepit pool out back.

“Wow, having a little party here, are we? I saw a picture Charlie posted on Instagram last night, and I decided I couldn’t stand to miss all the fun.” Elizabeth thought of the picture that must have pissed off Caroline -- the four of them had been gathered around the fire pit with full wine glasses and happy, flushed faces. Well, she couldn’t speak to Will’s face, but the others certainly were happy. Charlie had tagged Lizzie in the picture, but Jane and Will didn’t do social media. 

Elizabeth looked amused at Caroline’s declaration. “What could be more fun than London, Caroline?” she asked her. 

Caroline smiled back sweetly. “Oh, nothing’s more fun than being around Will and Charlie, as I’m sure you’ve figured out. Where is Charlie, by the way?”

Charlie and Jane came walking in from the kitchen at the sound of her arrival. “Caro!” Charlie exclaimed. “I thought you wanted to go back to town for Gemma’s nightclub opening? Weren’t you going to help her?”

“Oh, that’s just PR and booking influencers. I can do that from here,” she said dismissively, pulling off her coat and sinking into the seat next to Will. “Wait, you have Internet service now, right?”

“Hot spot,” Charlie said.

“Oh, god,” growled Caroline. “This place is so backwards.”

“Oh, shut it, Caro. I just didn’t call the company until yesterday. The hot spot will work fine for whatever it is you need.”

Elizabeth smiled to herself, a cheeky little smile that Will wanted to swallow up with his own mouth. He looked back down at his work and said, “I’m just about to head out for a run right now, actually, Charlie. Any recommendations on where to head, Elizabeth?” He stood up and walked over to a window that faced the rear of the property.

Lizzie walked over to him, and pointed through the window. “Do you see that cluster of oaks to the east?” He came closer to her and lowered his head slightly to get the same view as she did. Will got that whiff of her again and took a deep breath in. The deepness of his voice surprised him when he answered her that yes, he did see it.

“There’s a beautiful path there that criss-crosses a little stream. You can run a shorter 3k loop or a longer loop of maybe about 8k, depending on what you’re in the mood for. You can also go beyond, if you like, but those little loops are beautiful. One of my favourite spots.”

Charlie had been looking at her sketches. He picked one up and said, “Ah, is this the trail system you’re talking about hooking into?”

“Yes, I think it could be really special. There’s something for everybody, just a short walk, or a longer run. You can also keep the parts that are just for Netherfield a little more private and inaccessible visually with a tree line. That way it wouldn’t feel forbidding, but it certainly wouldn’t be obvious to non-guests, either. And there are land grants I could write for you, since it’s about sustainability and stewardship.”

“That’s just the sort of thing I was thinking about when I first looked at Netherfield with Jane. Something that blends in well, and doesn’t harm what’s already here.” Charlie looked approvingly at her, and Will felt the wisdom of her approach. Elizabeth seemed to know her stuff, stuck in this little tiny town. Her talents might be wasted here. 

“And what are you thinking, Will?” asked Charlie. 

“Hmm. The point is retreat and restoration, right?” Will turned back from the window and moved toward his sketches. “Perhaps you’d like to keep things more private for your paying guests.”

Charlie nodded. “Well, certainly partially.”

“It’s also about integration and connection, is it not?” Elizabeth asked. 

“Connection with whom?” Will asked. This wasn’t something he and Charlie had gone over. 

“With everything. With the land, with others. There should be options for discovery. The space needs to be flexible enough to allow for differences of character and need,” Elizabeth said, walking back to the table. “You never know what people will be coming here to retreat from.”

“I believe a more prescriptive design for interaction would be better,” said Will stiffly. Charlie has never mentioned any of this to him. When had the little sneak gotten a chance to put new plans in Charlie’s head?

“Certainly it’s right to keep some spaces sacred and traditional,” said Elizabeth. “But if the idea is to do something that’s not been done before…” she trailed off.

Will felt his heart start to beat faster. Was she telling him how to do his job? “It’s certainly something to consider.” He put a note of dismissiveness in his voice to stop the conversation.

“Charlie! What’s the password!?” Caroline whined behind them and Will ran upstairs to change before he had to witness an epic Bingley Sibling Squabble.

Caroline’s arrival didn’t change Lizzie and Jane’s plans. Lizzie wanted one more night on the property to consider the view from the windows, and the concept of multiple private spaces outdoors, and who might use them. As for Jane, she was woozy with Charlie, completely blissed out on him. Jane and Charlie had made a gorgeous pasta dish and the five of them had gone through what seemed to Lizzie like buckets of wine. The wine had different effects on everybody. Lizzie had felt content and buzzed, and her belly full of linguine. Jane and Charlie laughed and laughed, making eyes at each other, Charlie holding her gaze until Jane looked down at her plate, overwhelmed. Caroline seemed to get more annoyed (and annoying), and Will seemed to become more withdrawn. Lizzie smiled as she helped clean up the kitchen with Will and Caroline, who had been watching her like a hawk. Jane and Charlie went out on the darkening verandah to look at the stars. 

Lizzie scraped the plates into the garbage while Will carefully washed wine glasses and Caroline “helped” by adjusting the piles of dirty dishes left on the work counter. “If only this place had a dishwasher!” Caroline repined.

“It will, after the renovation,” Will said mildly.

“Here, allow me to dry the glasses,” she said, picking up a dirty tea towel.

“No, no, it’s fine. They ought to air dry,” Will said, eyeing the tomato stained towel in Caroline’s hands.

“Oh, you’re getting your jumper all wet. Let me get you an apron.”

“I’m quite alright, thank you. I’ll be done shortly.”

Trying another tactic, and eyeing Lizzie’s poorly hidden smirk, Caroline said suddenly, “Oh, by the way, how is your sister? I haven’t seen Georgiana in ages!”

“She’s doing well, thank you. She’s just settling in for the term at Benenden.” Will finished the wine glasses and started on the stack of plates Lizzie had set down near him.

“How brilliant. So accomplished for such a young girl,” Caroline trilled.

“How old is your sister, Will?” Lizzie asked, sounding newly interested.

He kept his voice level, even those his heart jumped when she said his name. Even over such a mundane question. “She’ll turn seventeen in November.”

“She’s your only sibling?”

He nodded, unable to think of anything to say. Then he remembered she also had sisters. “How many sisters have you got again?”

“Oh, Lord. Four, so including me, my parents are saddled with five daughters.” She gathered the silverware together and set it in a casserole dish, and put that next to the plates for Will. From there, she began wiping down the counter.

“Five daughters. That’s...well, that’s quite something,” Caroline wrinkled her nose at the thought. 

“It was. It is. We’re all grown up now, though. Hopefully it’s easier for my parents now that it’s so. My poor father doesn’t even register the noise anymore.”

Will imagined a house full of noisy daughters. Georgie was so quiet, and so eager to please him. With both their parents dead and gone in a car crash four years ago, Will had become her legal guardian at age 28. 

“And your house, is it quite small and cramped with so many girls?” Caroline was searching for an insult. 

“Our home is quite old, but it’s been in the family for about 250 years now. Just a small little estate, with the farm attached. My father inherited Longbourn when Jane and I were quite young. He’s an interior designer and he made many improvements to the function -- moving some walls, adding some more modern features. I’m sure my parents didn’t expect three more children to follow, but it always felt spacious enough.”

“New designs can be so gauche in old buildings, wouldn’t you say? Tricky, tricky.” Caroline poured herself more wine, the last dregs of a bottle.

“I dare say they can,” said Lizzie. “But my father is quite a famous interior designer. We’re all very proud of Longborn. It will stand the test of time into the next generation, whomever inherits it.”

“Hold on,” Will said, turning toward Lizzie with an incredulous look on his face. “Is your father Sir Thomas Bennet?”

“Surprised to find the likes of him in the country?” Lizzie asked archly. Everything about her face looked sweet and playful, but Will could sense a distance and once again, he cursed himself for that stupid speech at the Harvest Festival. _How long do I have to pay for this?_ he wondered.

“Well…” Will was thoughtful. The wine had loosened his tongue. “You have to admit, he’s not done much since his creation of the Collinswood Chair.” That chair’s fame was on par with the Eames chair. An original in good condition could go for well over £20,000. Will’s father had had two flanking the fireplace in his study at Pemberley, where they remained to this day.

“Creativity works in mysterious ways,” Lizzie said. “I’m sure you would agree. It’s true he’s been retired a long time, but he’s working on another book, in addition to supervising the farmland. We rent the majority of the fields.”

And he can live off that chair’s success for the rest of his life, if he wants to, thought Will. But to support five daughters and a wife off of it? What about legacies for the children? That was a genuine case of resting on one’s laurels.

“You’re quite lucky to have had him to learn from,” said Will. “He’s quite a talent.”

“He’s always been my greatest teacher.” Lizzie took a thoughtful pause, then said, “It _is_ true that more application on my father’s behalf would please my mother, it’s certainly been some time since he’s made a splash. But, then. She’s an American -- she always wants more.”

“A bit insulting to your mother,” Caroline said. “Some of us have lost our mothers and would give anything to have them around to _nag_ us.” Caroline looked smug. This was an area where she and Will had something in common. Because Lizzie had not been made privy to either of their losses, she chose not to engage.

“Oh, I mean no insult to my mother. After all, I’m half American, and we lived there when Jane and I were quite young. It’s simply been an odd study in our family life. My mother pushes and schemes and dreams. My father considers, thinks, and takes his time. Yet, they do love each other, different as they are.” Lizzie returned to wiping down the tomato-splattered countertop.

“Well, no relationship is perfect,” said Will, though he hardly had many long relationships to draw on. “We’re all flawed.”

“I’m sure that’s not so for you, Will,” Caroline simpered. She was wasted. Will hoped she wouldn’t remember this conversation in the morning. He grimaced at the wall facing the sink. “You’re every woman’s dream guy.”

Lizzie chuckled and Will whipped around to look at her. Laughing at him! The little hayseed was laughing at him! “A man without fault,” Lizzie said to herself, smiling.

“Not possible for anybody,” said Will gruffly, his face turning red. “I have faults enough. My temper is not very forgiving, it might be called resentful. I can’t forget the inconsistencies of others very easily, and I don’t change my mind often. My good opinion once lost is lost forever.”

“Unshakable resentment is a flaw, certainly,” Lizzie said. She turned to look at him, stopping her tidying. “But I can hardly ridicule it. You’re safe from me, Will.” She seemed willing to let the conversation drop, but he found himself saying, “I believe there’s a tendency to some particular flaw in everybody.”

“Your tendency is to think poorly of everybody, then.”

He scoffed, “If you think that, then your flaw is to willfully misunderstand them.” Will and Lizzie looked at each other for a moment, saying nothing. Her eyes were playful but she had a fierceness about her. Could a woman be fierce and playful all at once? Will went through the catalog of women he’d known, staring at Lizzie’s intriguing face. She looked back up at him, unflinching.

Caroline had been watching them volley back and forth and took this opportunity to put a stop to the overly intimate conversation. “Come on, this is so dull. Let’s watch a movie or something.” She grabbed another bottle of wine and a clean glass from the cabinet and called in Jane and Charlie from the terrace. They went into the living room with Caroline, where Will and Lizzie could hear the siblings arguing about what movie to watch. Caroline ran to the bathroom, and in the time it took her to get back, Charlie and Jane had selected the deep cushioned loveseat, and Lizzie and Will took seats on the opposite ends of the couch. Caroline flung herself into the remaining chair. 

Lizzie had had a long day, and had already seen the movie. Though the noise blasted from the television, she found herself drifting off, sleepier because of the wine. She brought her legs up on the couch and snuggled in, and hugged a pillow, with her body angled toward Will. After a few moments, she fell asleep lightly, and wasn’t sure how long had dozed before she felt a blanket softly draped over her. She sighed out the words “Thank you” in a whoosh, not opening her eyes, and fell all the way into sleep. 

Caroline glowered at Will when he placed the blanket over Lizzie, and rolled her eyes. That bitch was doing a great job with her hard-to-get act. Maybe it was worth trying herself.

The next morning, Lizzie and Jane drove off, with Charlie waving at them from the driveway. Will had already given them both a formal nod as they’d left the house. Caroline was still upstairs, sleeping off a hangover. Lizzie felt pleased and excited about what could come of the landscape, whether it had to interplay with Darcy’s work or not. And happy as she was for Jane, she was glad to drive away and head back home to Longbourn.

When they got home, something remarkable awaited them.

Charlotte had stopped by, and she had big news. She was celebrating her engagement to the man she’d told Lizzie about: Bill. She sat in the living room with him, awkwardly chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and Mary. The engagement in and of itself was surprising. Even more surprising, though, was the fact the Bill Charlotte had been telling her about all these weeks was Bill Collins. 

The Collingswood Chair Mr. Bennet had designed was in partnership with Bill’s father, Joseph Collins. Their partnership had dissolved in a bitter fight and a long drawn out legal battle. Joseph Collins had been the engineer of the team, Mr. Bennet the artist. After the last of the lawsuits had been settled between them, both men found their finances severely diminished, and their professional relationship totally poisoned. They never spoke again. Mr. Bennet went to America to lick his wounds and met the future Mrs. Bennet at a party in New York City. Joseph Collins married a secretary from their former design firm and had several sons, one of whom was Bill Collins. Joseph had used his portion of the rights on the patent from the Collinswood Chair to mass market a less elegant version of the Collinswood, along with several accompanying pieces. Now his son Bill had taken over the business and done fairly well for himself, apparently.

Bill Collins was awkward, and lumpy. He took in their home almost appraisingly, remarking on the improvements Mr. Bennet had made, those he was able to ascertain. Mrs. Bennet stiffly refilled cups of tea, and Mr. Bennet looked at Bill with amusement. Joseph Collins was long dead by now. When Mr. Bennet had originally heard of his death, he had only chuckled and said, “Hopefully his throne in hell is as well made as our chair.” Charlotte had not known of the awkwardness between the Bennets and the Collinses. She shifted uncomfortably, and tried changing the subject with little success. Mrs. Bennet had taken every opportunity of mentioning “inferior reproductions” while Mr. Bennet had goaded Bill into saying as many idiotic things as possible. When Lizzie and Jane walked through the door, Charlotte’s relief was palpable. 

Charlotte introduced them, and when they heard the name, Lizzie and Jane comprehended instantly. Their father only raised an eyebrow at Lizzie. “It seems, my dears, that Bill here is the new owner of a parcel of land in Kent. He has grand designs for the place, all inspired by his half of my old patent. Isn’t that something?”

“Certainly, Sir,” Bill piped up, “It will be nothing to this grand old home. But I do believe we can create something special. The parcel of land is next to Lady Catherine deBourgh’s estate, and I believe she will design something inspired for my dear Charlotte and me.”

“Lady Catherine deBourgh? Is she one of the partners of Darcy & deBourgh?” Lizzie asked. It wasn’t a terribly ordinary name, deBourgh.

“Ah, yes!” said Bill. “She recently used some of the Collins Group’s furniture designs for a new office building she designed in Canterbury. When she mentioned some land was being sold nearby her estate, I knew exactly where I needed to build our dream home. Our properties are separated only by a lane!”

“Only a lane, hmm? Fancy that, girls.” said Mr. Bennet. He was enjoying himself immensely, discovering what a fool Joseph Collins’ son was. The apple had not fallen far from the tree. He listened in contemptuous pleasure as Bill enumerated the ways Lady Catherine had advised him -- they all sounded like the most absurd oversteps imaginable to Lizzie’s ears, but Bill seemed delighted by his relationship with his neighbor.

Jane changed the subject. “How long will you two be staying in Meryton?”

It turned out that they’d be around for a week, organizing the wedding, which was to be soon -- in a month, out of the Meryton chapel. Charlotte managed to wrap up the visit and usher Bill back to her parents’ house, possibly wishing she’d called ahead first to see if Lizzie was home before dropping by with the one man the Bennets must hate the sight of. Mr. Bennet had a talent for making people seem idiotic, and apparently Bill had a talent for not noticing when someone was taking the piss.

Mr. Bennet and Lizzie waved goodbye to them at the front door. Mr. Bennet sighed to himself. “I used to think Charlotte Lucas was one of the more sensible women of our family’s acquaintance. What a delight to learn it’s not quite so after all these years.” 

Lizzie, for her part, wondered what Charlotte saw in Bill. She knew Charlotte wanted a family, but Bill’s company seemed a costly way of creating one. The way he’d nattered on about Lady Catherine and the opinions and advice she pushed so freely. As if those opinions were a gift and not a burdensome insult. Of all the people in the world to be Charlotte’s future husband! The world was a small, strange place.

Meanwhile Mrs. Bennet grilled Jane on her stay at Netherfield. She was positive that before long, Jane would take her turn with Charlie Bingley in the Meryton Chapel, and Jane would look a million times better on her big day that Charlotte Lucas could ever do. That would make up for Mrs. Lucas marrying off a daughter before she did.

The next day at her job outside of Basingstoke, Lizzie monitored the final details of the arbor planting and the installation of a permeable paver path in a redo of a section of the Village Green. As she chatted with the Mayor’s assistant, Doris, a man Lizzie had never seen before drove up in a truck. When he got out of the cabin, he was so tall it seemed to Lizzie he had to unfold his limbs. He walked up to her and the assistant and Lizzie had to take a breath. He was what Lydia and Kitty called “stupid handsome”. So handsome it makes you stupid. He had a long lean frame that topped off with wide shoulders that were lightly muscled under his t-shirt. He had a mop of dark hair and a lopsided grin that Lizzie couldn’t help but return. The mayor’s assistant was a woman in her late 50s, and certainly not immune to the stupid handsome man herself. Doris did herself credit, though, recovering her breathlessness and introducing the two. “Lizzie Bennet, please meet George Wickham, who has just been doing some contract engineering for us. George, Lizzie is the landscape architect who’s been helping us smarten up the Green.”

“Delighted to meet you, Lizzie,” said George, still smiling down at her. She was relieved that she wasn’t in full dirty working clothes, but rather jeans and wellies, with a v-necked t-shirt underneath her light raincoat. “I love the way you’ve framed this entry to the Green -- those oaks and birches will be beautiful someday, and whilst they grow you’ve got these faster growing shrubs. And it’s a nice transition between the residential neighborhood into the public area. Well done.”

“Thank you, George,” she smiled back at him. “We hope the village will enjoy them as they grow.” She turned to Doris and said, “I can’t thank you enough -- you’ve been a pleasure to work with.” Lizzy handed the older woman a clipboard and she signed off on the completion of work. Doris smiled at them both and walked into the administration building. Lizzie swore she giggled as she left them.

“I didn’t mean to waylay you,” said Lizzie. “Were you headed inside?” She gestured to the building where Doris had just disappeared.

“No, I’ve a few errands before I head back in.” They walked over the new pavers that Lizzie’s team had set and walked around the Green. She learned in that short time that he was a civil engineer who did contract work for smaller villages and cities, and that he used to work in architecture himself, in a firm. He originally came from Derbyshire and had been living in London these past 10 years.

Lizzie’s intuition bell went off at the name Derbyshire and she turned and asked, “Was the firm you worked for Darcy & deBourgh, by any chance?” 

George looked momentarily alarmed, and then his face smoothed. “It was, yes. Were you acquainted with them at all? Have you ever done business with the firm?”

“No, not exactly. I recently met one of the partners, Will Darcy. We might collaborate on a project, but it could all come to nothing.” 

“I see,” George said. “And what do you make of him?”

“Well,” said Lizzie slowly. “He’s rather stuck up. And seems incredibly awkward and occasionally rude.” Sort of like Lady Catherine sounded in Bill’s stories. How odd to meet yet another person connected to Darcy & deBourgh in one week.

George laughed and to Lizzie, it sounded like he was relieved. “Ah, I see. We’re kindred spirits then. Darcy fired me from his firm a few years back. The reasons were pretty much connected to the qualities you mentioned. He’s arrogant and never thinks himself wrong.” 

Lizzie couldn’t imagine getting sacked. “Oh, how awful, I’m sorry.” Will was arrogant and Lizzie remembered the dismissive way he’d responded to some of her ideas about Netherfield. George continued, “I pointed out some safety and code violations on a big project he was working on for the city in front of some big wigs, and apparently embarrassed him enough to get kicked out. He never liked me, though. We knew each other as kids. I was at school with him on a bursary. When we met up again at the firm, he was just looking for a way to push me out.” 

Lizzie considered. “He does seem rather a snob. But I hadn’t thought him as bad as all that. The whole point of maintaining a civil engineer on staff is to improve safety and work with codes. What a prat.”

“He’s definitely a prat. In fairness, I have a warm temper, and I probably spoke too much out of turn. The firm is family run all the way, and they wouldn’t condescend to hear it from a chav like me. His aunt Lady Catherine has semi-retired, but her daughter Anne is now the other deBourgh partner along with Darcy. I used to be friendly with Anne and many of the others, but I never see any of them now. Honestly, it’s better that I’m out of it.”

“Goodness, I’m sorry,” said Lizzie. Her heart swelled with indignation at the picture George was painting of Darcy & deBourgh. “You seem to be doing well now, that’s great.”

George’s smile lit up again. “Yeah, absolutely. I’ve landed on my feet and have every cause for being happy with my current situation. Disappointment doesn’t stick to me, to be honest. I hate wallowing.”

They looped back around to her car and he leaned against the side, talking and smiling down at her. Lizzie felt a little flushed under his gaze. “Hey, could I get your number? I’d love to hang out sometime.” She smiled and recited her number to him. He shot her an immediate text and she saved his contact. George Wickham. It had a nice ring to it.


	5. Pas de Deux

A few days after Jane had gone back to work in London, Lizzie received a text from her: _Charlie’s planning a party at Netherfield this weekend! Caroline is helping him pull it together. Keep Saturday free!_ Lizzie was sitting in her office in one of the outbuildings at Longbourn. Her father had renovated it some time back, and now she used it as a homebase for her company. It had taken ages to land on the name, Nature by Design, but it fit the way she felt about the world. One could design people’s access to nature, inspire them, make them love it, no matter what their feelings were about the great outdoors. Lizzie looked at the logo painted onto the wall over her desk and stared at it while thinking about George Wickham. 

They’d been texting nearly nonstop, but he hadn’t actually asked her out on a date. Now she had something she could ask him to. Lizzie texted Jane back: _Do you think I could invite someone? I met a really cute guy…_

George called her when he got her text. “Hey Lizzie! I’d love to go. What’s it all about?”

Lizzie could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “I’m not quite sure. I’d assume some of Charlie’s friends from London would be there. I do know he invited a lot of local people, too, though. Netherfield Park has a big ballroom, and he can easily fit a hundred people in there. What he doesn’t have is a lot of furniture, so I’m guessing it will look kind of rustic. He’s a fun bloke -- I bet it’ll be cool whatever he winds up putting together.” Lizzie pictured rented tables draped in white and luminaria bags atop all surfaces.

George cleared his throat. “Do you think Will is going to be there?”

Lizzie’s heart skipped with sympathy for him. “Honestly, I don’t know. He seems to legitimately hate parties and gatherings, so although he’s been staying with Charlie, maybe he’s moving on in time to escape? I hope his being there wouldn’t keep you away...I mean, I definitely understand if it’s too painful.”

“No, no! It’s not me who did anything wrong. I just don’t know how he’d react if he saw me -- I wouldn’t want it to be awkward for Charlie Bingley, or you, if he causes a scene.”

Lizzie felt a fury rise inside of her. Honestly, what a fucking prick Will Darcy was. “Well, take a day or two, think it over.”

“No, I already know. I’ll be there. Now what time should I pick you up?”

On the night of the party, Longbourn Farm was all in uproar. Jane had come home the night before, bringing a few different outfits with her, unsure of which to go with. Kitty and Lydia were in fine form, bossing Jane, Lizzie, and their mother around, curling hair and even giving their mother false eyelashes. “Oh, girls, I’m too old for this!” Mrs. Bennet laughed, leaning over into the mirror to look. “Goodness, so much more natural than the old false eyelashes.”

“Well, yeah, Mum. Those used to look like caterpillars. Now these -- so much softer,” said Lydia, bending over their mother again and applying contouring.

Although Mary was not part of the hullabaloo upstairs, she was planning on going, too. She had already changed into her one dress -- a black a-line dress with cap sleeves that looked perfect for a funeral -- and was downstairs reading on the sofa. Mr. Bennet had been coerced by his wife into attending (“Think of Jane!” she had hissed at him only that morning), and he sat in his office, working over a draft of his book with a red pencil and sighing heavily.

Upstairs, Jane escaped Lydia and Kitty’s room to sit with Lizzie as she dressed herself. Kitty had worked Lizzie’s hair into a tousled chignon that showed off her long, creamy peach neck. Lizzie wasn’t one for a ton of makeup, but she’d accepted a tube of deep rose no-smudge lip gloss from Lydia, who had also insisted on false lashes for Lizzie. Jane helped Lizzie into a pretty silk green dress with a flouncy skirt that hit her at the knee. The dress had long sleeves that ended in cuffs just above her wrists and a deep plunging neckline. “You look so pretty, Lizzie Lou,” said Jane. They picked through Lizzie’s jewelry box and found a pair of small dangling pearl and diamond clusters that had belonged to their grandmother. They held up a few pendant necklaces but decided to leave her plunging neckline be. When they’d taken care of Lizzie, they turned to Jane. Lydia had hardly put any makeup on Jane -- she didn’t need much more than a swipe of mascara, and even that. But it was a special occasion, after all. The sisters looked back and forth at the dresses Jane had brought with her from home. They selected a dusty rose sequin mini-dress with long sleeves that showed off Jane’s legs. Pretty much every feature of Jane’s was a good one, but even modest Jane was proud of her legs.

The Bennets took two cars over. Jane and Mary rode with their father, and Lydia and Kitty went with their mother. Lizzie watched as the girls crammed themselves in their mother’s sports car -- they had gone against the boobs OR legs dress code and went with boobs AND legs, but Lizzie couldn’t deny they were head turners. Lizzie waited for George to pull up, resting on the arm of the sofa so as not to wrinkle her dress. A few moments after the other Bennets had pulled away, she heard his car pull up the drive, and footsteps leading up to the front door. She waited a beat after he rang the bell and got up to meet him.

George was more handsome than she remembered. He gave her that lopsided grin, and took in her dress and hair, unapologetically allowing his eyes to linger over her. “Wow,” he said simply. “You are absolutely stunning.”

She blushed and looked down. “Thank you. You look very handsome yourself.” And he did -- he wore a slim fitting black suit that showed off his height and broad shoulders. He wore no tie and a couple of buttons on his crisp lilac colored shirt were open. She took a deep breath and looked back up at him, just in time to see him leaning down toward her. He gave her a gentle, insistent kiss, with one hand on the door frame, and the other lightly on her waist, pulling her almost imperceptibly closer. Lizzie could feel her body respond, first with surprise, then with pleasure -- her nipples stiffened under the silk and she felt a small twinge below.

George straightened back up after a moment, and once again gave her that irresistible grin. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. I’d been wanting to do that all week. Now that it’s out of the way, I won’t be so distracted.”

“Well, I’m glad _you_ won’t be distracted, but as for me…” Lizzie’s head was spinning, but she tried to be calm as she flipped on the front door light and locked up the house. She pulled her wrap around her shoulders and put her keys into her small evening bag. “Come on,” she said, and George grabbed her hand and led her to his car, opening the door for her. “To Netherfield Park.”

When they arrived, Lizzie was surprised to see so many cars already there. She could hear music thumping inside the manor, and lights were ablaze in every window on the main floor. There were a handful of people smoking in small groups on the front terrace and she looked among them as George maneuvered into a spot along the circular drive. Nobody she recognized. Maybe one of the younger Lucas boys. George came around and opened her car door for her, and gave her his hand as she alighted. Once again with that boyish grin. 

Once inside, Lizzie found Charlie and Jane and introduced them to George. An expression of familiarity passed over Charlie’s face briefly, but it didn’t linger. “Pleasure to meet you, George! Lizzie, you look beautiful.” Jane’s beautiful face glowed as she shook George’s hand. “George,” she said. “Lizzie’s already told me so many nice things about you, it’s lovely to meet you.” George gave her that smile and after a few moments of chat, whisked Lizzie away to the bar. “What’ll you have?” he said, smiling down at her. 

They chatted in the line and looked about them at the grand home. This is what these homes had truly been built for -- gatherings of a hundred, grand entertainment, and little spots here and there where lovers could steal a moment. Lizzie let her mind linger on that idea -- private little alcoves in the garden where a couple might be alone. That was something to work into her design, should Charlie go with her services. Charlie and Caroline had rented dozens of tables that were covered with dusty gold cloths that glowed in the soft candle light and warmly lit chandeliers above. Catering staff were passing hor’dourves and Lizzie picked out several of her neighbors amongst the Londoners she’d never seen before. She was just about to open her mouth to make an observation to George about the view from the window they were nearest when she saw Will Darcy approach.

Will had seen the other Bennets arrive earlier, but without Elizabeth. He couldn’t bring himself to ask Jane where her sister was. The two younger girls greeted Charlie briefly then immediately ran off to the bar and onto the dance floor, where their shaking bums and jiggling breasts pulled a few of the male attendees out onto the floor. The DJ was playing mostly pop hits with a thrumming beat, good for dancing. Charlie immediately abandoned his post near the front door and walked Jane to the bar, mesmerized by her. Caroline rolled her eyes and checked her wristwatch. About 45 minutes after the party officially began, she felt she could walk away from the door and let latecomers find their own way. Darcy wandered around the ballroom to see if he’d missed Elizabeth somehow. The younger Bennet girls had inspired more young people to take to the floor and soon the party was in full swing.

On Will’s second turn around the room, he saw a dark haired beauty standing in line for drinks. It had to be her. He walked up to her, feeling his heart in his throat, meaning to make good this time, and ask her forgiveness for what he’d said at the festival a week ago. Was it really only a week? He’d solicit her opinions on his design ideas for Netherfield. He’d ask her about her work, and why she’d chosen to become a landscape architect. He warred between the two facts he’d been arguing in his head all week since she and Jane had gone away: Elizabeth Bennet was beautiful, smart, and different from every other woman he’d met in his life, but Elizabeth Bennet was also a country girl who would never fit in with his life or his family. It would lead nowhere. And yet, he couldn’t stand the idea of not speaking to her when she was nearby. 

As he got close, he confirmed that it was her. She was speaking to some bloke whose back was to Will, her face animated. Will admired the dark green silk against her fair skin, the curve of her breasts, and the intelligent expression on her face. He was a few steps away when the man she was speaking to turned slightly. Will saw it was Wickham, and felt his stomach drop. How the fuck did Wickham know Elizabeth Bennet? How, of all the women in England, had Wickham wormed his way into the good graces of the one Will couldn’t seem to ignore? He was about to turn away so he could steady himself at the shock of seeing Wickham, to try and calm the anger he felt rising inside of him when Elizabeth saw him. “Oh, Will. Hello. I thought perhaps you’d already gone back to London.”

She looked at the two men as they encountered each other full on. George went red, and Will went pale. “Darcy,” George said, nodding his head once.

Will could not trust himself to speak. Instead, he returned the nod, and looked at Lizzie. “Hello, Elizabeth. No, not gone off to London yet. Not until Monday. Excuse me,” he said. And turned on his heel and walked out of the ballroom.

Lizzie’s face was pink, embarrassed to have witnessed the scene. George took a breath and looked down at her, finding a smile. “No love lost there,” he said lightly. 

Lizzie took his hand for a moment. “Are you okay?” she asked softly. 

“Yeah, never better,” he said. “Let’s get a drink and get out on the floor.”

Will watched as Wickham led Lizzie to a table near the dance floor. He watched as Lizzie introduced Wickham to her parents, and that plain friend of hers, who stood with some tall oafish bloke. He watched as Wickham pulled her out onto the floor and spun her around, holding her too close. Will watched as she threw her head back and laughed, allowed him to play the gallant and fetch her drinks. Will looked on as Jane caught a private moment with Lizzie, smiling at Wickham’s retreating back. She blushed like a schoolgirl at something Jane said, and shrugged her shoulders. 

He thought back on the two facts he’d been warring with all week: Elizabeth Bennet intrigued him, and she also was off-limits to him, by virtue of the fact that it could never really go anywhere. She wasn’t going to leave Meryton and her loud, messy family, and he had no intention of leaving London. _Boom. Done. Bad fit, plus she’s with George Wickham. Decision made,_ he thought to himself. Before he could stop himself, Will made his way over to Lizzie, who was now deep in conversation with that friend of hers. As he approached, he heard her speaking angrily, “Really, Charlotte, what other explanation could there be!? His arrogance, his selfish disdain for all those around him! I hate -- “ Lizzie cut herself off as she heard his footsteps approaching and her friend’s discreet throat clearing cough.

She spun around, and her face reddened. Oh, yeah. She’d been talking about him. What lies had Wickham been feeding her now that he realized Lizzie and Will knew each other, he wondered. “Hello again, Elizabeth,” he said, feeling as though he was having an out of body experience. He turned and looked at her friend, holding out his hand. “Hi, I’m Will Darcy.” 

“Pleasure to meet you, I’m Charlotte Lucas.” The woman shook his hand and smiled warmly, and suddenly, she looked much less plain to Will. She seemed wise and warm.

“Elizabeth, I wondered if you’d like to have a dance with me,” Will said. It came out of his mouth before he knew he was going to say it. He wanted to hold her, and this was the only way. 

Lizzie stammered “I didn’t, I mean I wasn’t…” she looked directly into his eyes. “Sure. Let’s have a dance.” She set her drink down on the cocktail table where she stood with Charlotte, and smoothed her skirt, giving Charlotte a look Will couldn’t quite interpret.

The DJ had shifted into slower songs. The floor had calmed down quite a bit, and Will was relieved. He could slow dance. His mother had made him take lessons when he was a young teenager. He’d hated them at the time, but now he felt a surge of gratitude for the old woman who’d banged out time with her wooden cane in the dance studio in Lambton. She’d yell at him to stand up straight as he’d led awkward giggling girls around the parquet floor at the studio in Lambton. Right as Will and Elizabeth took to the dance floor, the opening notes of Stevie Wonder’s “My Cherie Amour” began to play.

He was actually about to touch her. She looked at him inquisitively and placed her right hand in his, her left on his shoulder. Will placed a hand on her waist and started to lead her in a simple rumba. She looked surprised at his confidence, and allowed herself to be led around the floor. After a few moments she said, “Well, I think we have to have some chat, Will.”

“Do we? Why?”

“It would look odd to be completely silent, wouldn’t it? People will say we’re in love.” She spoke playfully, but Will swore he could detect an edge underneath the words.

Will didn’t want to screw this up. He’d screwed up nearly every time with her. “I’ll chat about anything you want,” he smiled down at her.

“Very well,” she said, smiling primly. “How have you been spending your week since I saw you last?”

Work. He could talk about work all day long. “Charlie has decided to go with Darcy & deBourgh to work on the manor. I’ve been in talks with my associates to begin preliminary drawings.”

“Well, that’s exciting,” she said. She looked conflicted for a moment, and he held an arm out to spin her. She must have had dance lessons as a child herself. She seemed completely confident in her steps, and moved her body with ease. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just admired her gracefulness, the twirl of her skirt, the delicate steps of her feet in high heeled sandals. There was silence between them again. She said something last, Will’s mind raced. He needed to think of something to say. Instead, Elizabeth spoke. “Since I saw you last, I made a new acquaintance. Somebody you seem to know.”

Will nearly forgot what step to take next. He paused before speaking, not sure what her meaning was. She was obviously angry with him. The problem was that an angry woman as beautiful as Elizabeth was distracting. Her dark eyes looked afire, challenging, but her long neck and cleavage looked incredibly inviting. Although he wasn’t sure what to say, what lies that scum Wickham had fed her, he simply said, “George Wickham has the lucky ability to make friends wherever he goes. Whether or not he’s capable of keeping them remains to be seen.”

“He’s been unlucky enough to lose your friendship in a way that will take him years to recover,” she seemed as though she wanted to say more, but held back.

“George has only himself to thank for whatever happens to him,” Will said, and even he could hear how haughty his voice sounded. Walk it back, Darcy! He said to himself. 

Lizzie felt how fruitless it would be to have this conversation here, to have a fight in the home of Jane’s boyfriend, in front of scores of friends and strangers. She took a breath and realized it didn’t matter. Nothing Will Darcy could say would make her believe he was anything but an arrogant jerk. There was silence between them for half a minute, then Will seemed to recover. “What are you up to the rest of the weekend?” It was a clunky change of subject, and Lizzie’s mind couldn’t right itself. She made a slight answer, then said nothing more. Will asked her again about her plans, and Lizzie had to shake her head.

“I’m sorry, I feel very distracted right now. I’m not speaking very intelligibly,” she said.

“Can I get you something, some water?” Will offered.

“No, no thank you,” Lizzie said, and allowed him to lead her through the dance for a moment more before stopping in her tracks. Will’s feet also stopped moving, but he kept his hands on her waist and still held her hand aloft. “Elizabeth?” He fought the urge to squeeze his hand on her waist and pull her closer.

“I’m sorry, excuse me,” she paused. “I know you’ve worked on dozens of projects, and are totally sought after in London. Your firm is old and respected. ”

“It is,” he said cautiously. “It’s been the work of many generations. My father’s family, my aunt’s family -- all that work is in my and my cousin's hands now. I’d do anything to maintain our good name.”

“And I assume your values include honor and integrity.”

“They do, of course. In all things,” he said firmly. “What is this about?” He dropped her hand and as much as he hated to do it, stepped back from her, loosening his hold on her waist.

“I’m merely trying to understand you,” she said. “Where you’re coming from, what you could be thinking.” Her eyes no longer looked angry, but rather, confused.

“And what have you determined?” Wickham was behind this, whatever this was.

“No luck,” said Lizzie. “I can’t make you out at all.”

Will looked angry, and Lizzie blamed herself from shying away from asking him directly what had happened between himself and George Wickham, why he’d ask her to dance when he barely seemed to like her. Will took a breath, and made a courtly little bow. “Thank you for the dance,” he said, and walked away from her. The last few notes of the Stevie Wonder song played, and Lizzie looked after him. Could somebody so proper and formal sack a person out of anger, just because he was being contradicted? Could such a man be Charlie Bingley’s best friend? Could somebody as engaging and sweet as George lie?

Lizzie walked to the bar and got another drink. Lydia and Kitty were out on the dance floor -- she didn’t think they’d left it once all night beyond running to the loo and grabbing more and more alcohol. The music was still slow and Lizzie could hear Lydia’s laughter ring out as some rich looking bloke from London ground against her. At her family’s table, Mary’s face was lit up with the light of her phone, and Bill Collins was rattling away at her father, her father’s face full of sardonic pleasure. Charlie was sitting with Jane at a distance, and Lizzie could see her mother motioning indiscreetly to Mrs. Lucas as they watched the couple looking intently into each other’s eyes. Lizzie put her hand to her forehead and rubbed at the beginnings of a headache.

When the bartender handed her a whisky and soda, Lizzie turned around and scanned the room for George. She saw him in a corner talking to Meghan King, a little slip of a girl Lizzie and Jane had known in their school days. Meghan looked happy and overwhelmed, and Lizzie recognized that lopsided little grin of George’s. Will Darcy was nowhere to be seen, and Lizzie interrogated herself on why it mattered where the hell Will had gotten off to. All that really mattered was that this night come to an end soon.


	6. Machinations

When the party at Netherfield was over, Lizzie was sure of two things. First, she never wanted to see Will Darcy again. She couldn’t stop turning over the twin feelings of anger and embarrassment. She had not conducted herself well. And yet as angry as she was with him -- his dismissiveness, his haughtiness -- she kept lingering on the question of why he’d bothered to ask her to dance. He didn’t even seem to like her company. She couldn’t resolve the reason to her satisfaction. 

The second was that Jane was now in love with Charlie Bingley, full stop. 

At the end of the night as people were filtering to their cars and saying their good-byes, Jane had grabbed Lizzie’s hand and pulled her to the side as George Wickham thanked Charlie for the party. “Lizzie, I’m going to stay the night again, Charlie asked me to. I just...” her eyes were shining. “I’ve just never felt like this about anybody. It’s fast, but I think I’m starting to fall in love with him. I think he might feel the same way.”

Lizzie squeezed Jane’s hand and said, “That’s so lovely, Jane. I know it’s fast, but it can be fast and it can be real. Both things are true. Enjoy it.” She looked warmly into her sister’s eyes as she spoke. Jane was not prone to flights of fancy when it came to her feelings. She honoured the truth when it showed up. Lizzie let go of her hand and waved over her shoulder as George led her out the door and to his car. He held and closed the passenger door for her and she thought for a moment of Meghan King. It was probably nothing. Meghan was so shy, and George was so charming. He drove Lizzie back to Longbourn and walked her up to the front door, holding her hand, which he’d grabbed as he helped her out of the car and simply not let go of.

They stood under the porch light and Lizzie shivered in the cool night air. George took her bunched up shawl from where it was draped over her arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling him toward her. “Cold, Lizzie?”

“A little,” she said breathily.

“Let’s warm you up.” He lifted his hands to her face and leaned in for a kiss. His lips were soft in contrast with a little stubble that had formed on his chin, and as he probed her mouth with his tongue, she breathed in the smell of him -- aftershave, a little sweat from dancing, a touch of sour beer. She let out a little moan, and he grunted. “That was a fun night,” he said, breaking the kiss, giving her an over-the-top, wolfish grin. “Thanks for inviting me. Want to do something soon?”

She nodded and smiled, waving a few fingers at him as she turned to open the door. Lydia and Kitty were inside waiting for her, and they didn’t pause for the door to close behind her before they started shrieking and teasing her. George Wickham was hot as hell. Lydia gave Lizzie’s butt a little slap and said, “Okay, tell us everything!” Lizzie just laughed and walked up the stairs as her two little sisters continued to hoot after her.

Jane and Charlie stayed at Netherfield all the next week. Jane only left to drive up to London when she had showings and clients, and Charlie stayed hard at work communicating with investors, and following some leads on grants Lizzie had told him about. Will had gone back to London, but Lizzie could still feel his presence in the house the few times she rode over on Marigold. The feelings were of disapproval, and discomfort. But what did it matter, really? Lizzie shook it off. 

She did not hear from George all that week. She’d texted a picture of the two of them at Charlie’s party and he’d sent a yellow heart back. Yellow, the color of friendship. So much for those kisses. When he texted her a meme a few days later, Lizzie didn’t write anything back. She had no patience for games. He had kissed her, and now he wanted to act like he hadn’t. He’d pursued her, and now he wanted to leave her on the back of the stove, simmering for when he was ready to eat. Lizzie wouldn’t be drawn in, so she decided to let the idea of George the Hot Engineer go. 

At the end of the week, Kitty told her that Meghan King had come into the salon for a trim, and was gushing about George, who’s apparently taken her out several times that week. Lydia had rolled her eyes and said, “Meghan is so stupid. She hasn’t seemed to connect the fact that she just inherited 500,000 pounds with the fact that Wickham is all over her. That’s literally all she has going for her.” Lizzie didn't want to think that of Wickham, or that Meghan wasn’t being careful with her heart or her fortune. She shrugged and told her little sisters, “That’s it for George Wickham. Good luck to Meghan.” Lizzie didn’t have a disposition for dwelling on things

That weekend Lizzie was at work on invoices in her office at Longborn when she heard a car pull up outside the little building. It was Jane, and she looked tired and happy. “Well, well,” said Lizzie, as she opened the door for her sister. “Look who decided to drag herself out of Charlie’s bed.”

Jane walked in and flopped down on the overstuffed chair alongside Lizzle’s desk. “Oh my god, Lizzie.” She put her hands over her face and groaned. “It’s just too good to be true.”

“I was just about to put the kettle on.”

“That’d be great.”

Jane told Lizzie about the long conversations she and Charlie had into the wee hours, the way they helped each other with work ideas and problems, the stories they shared about growing up. 

“And the sex…” Lizzie trailed off.

“Oh, my God. He’s so attentive.” Jane’s face was beetroot red.

They talked until it was dark out, and then walked up to the house for dinner with the family. “He has to go on a business trip soon. He’s going to be in Asia, looking at some spa resorts there. Some investors insisted.”

“You don’t want to go over with him?” Lizzie asked, looking up at the stars emerging in the night.

“No, I couldn’t. Work is picking up. I’ll see him when he comes back in early December.”

“Wow, long trip,” Lizzie said. “Where in Asia is he going?

“Malaysia, Japan, South Korea, and Thailand. Some of his investors have ownership in this spa chain, and they want him to tour. I think he feels he can’t say no. But I’ll be waiting,” Jane said simply. She turned the knob on the back door into the kitchen, where the sounds of their mother and Mary clanking away on dinner prep greeted them. Jane started to set the kitchen table and Lizzie went and changed out of her work clothes, calling to her father that dinner was ready.

The trip to Asia had been Will’s idea. He was in his office a few days after the party when his assistant let him know that a “Caroline Bingley is here to see you on a personal matter”. Will braced himself for whatever nonsense this would be about, and opened his office door to her.

She breezed into the room, wearing a bright red coat and high heels with her trademark sunglasses, though it was a cloudy day. Will shuddered to think what his assistant thought “personal business” meant, but Mrs. Reynolds was a professional and fairly nonjudgmental. She’d known him since he was a child, and had been his father’s assistant until his passing, and was devoted to Will now, treating him like a son.

“Caroline,” Will began. “What’s up?”

She lowered herself onto the mid-century leather couch and removed her sunglasses, fluttering her eyelashes prettily. “I’m worried about Charlie,” she said. “I’m worried about the attention he’s paying to Jane Bennet.”

Will didn’t say anything, but his face must have given something away, because Caroline pounced. “You see it, too, don’t you!”

He perched himself at the edge of his desk and furrowed his brow. “Charlie’s always in love. I just assume this will fizzle out like all the others.”

“I don’t think so, Will. He called Louisa this morning asking about one of Mummy’s old rings, the emerald-cut yellow diamond that belonged to our grandmother.”

Will let out a breath. “Wow, really? When did they actually get together, Charlie and Jane?”

“It hasn’t even been two months! They’ve only known each other since August, when she manipulated him into buying that pit in Meryton, then I think they started shagging the week we all went down there. Frankly, I think Jane Bennet is little more than a conniving gold digger. The commission she earned on the sale of the estate is just the start. Now she’s got her little cash cow Charlie wrapped around her finger. I just wish he wasn’t so oblivious!”

Charlie was rich. Not Darcy rich, but he had a new fortune and a bright future in hand. Jane Bennet could be a gold digger, but looking back at her behavior at Netherfield, she had been so mild, so mellow in response to Charlie’s intensity that Will couldn’t imagine she felt as Charlie did. That worried him more. That his gullible in-love-with-the-world friend would throw himself away on a woman who didn’t love him back enough. She might like him well enough, to be sure, but the money might push her over the edge of her indifference, and fake an affection she didn’t really feel just to secure Charlie. Will had seen it happen to others in his circle. The first of his mates were starting to get divorced, extricating themselves from unhappy, poorly thought-out marriages, now with a child or two to worry about. He got up and looked out the window at the busy street bustling outside.

“Will, what can we do? Charlie’s so...I don’t know. He’ll sign away his life to her.” Caroline interrupted his silence after a few moments.

“I have an idea," Will said slowly, thinking out loud. "Maybe all he needs is space. My cousin Richard is investing in the Netherfield Park project. He’s based in Bangkok, and has loads of connections there. He suggested that Charlie come out for a visit to tour a few of the resorts he has ownership in, they’re similar to what Charlie seems to be envisioning. The Fitzwilliam side of my family has invested heavily in the Asian real estate market, and they can call in some favors. He ought to be able to extend and draw out his original idea of the tour, if I were to ask. And maybe he can be fairly insistent with Charlie in getting him to do the research on site.” Will spoke slowly and ponderously, the idea coming together in his mind.

Caroline let out a sigh of dramatic relief. “Oh, that’s brilliant. Maybe some distance _would_ do the trick.”

Distance hadn’t done the trick for Will. He’d thought of Elizabeth Bennet every day since he’d met her, but mostly he thought of their last exchange on the dance floor. Of her gracefulness as he led her around the floor, her pensive face as they discussed Wickham, and how Will had walked away from her. But Charlie. He was always in love. Will was never in love. _And you’re not now, either!_ He scolded himself. These strange feelings were what caused him to linger on Elizabeth Bennet. He had to try and get over them -- it wasn’t her, it was the urges she was causing. He had to stop kicking himself from leaving her there on the dance floor. If she wanted to be with George Wickham, what was it to him? It was done, and it was done for the best. And anyway, Charlie got over girls as easily as he fell for them. A month in Asia ought to clear his head. “I’ll text Richard right now,” Will said. 

The next night Will met Charlie at a pub between their places. Charlie got the first pint and clapped Will on the back as they settled into a corner table. “I heard from Rich Fitzwilliam today,” Charlie said, taking a swig of his beer.

“Oh, yeah?” Will said, feeling a little guilty. It was Will who had engineered the scheme, who’d led Richard to create a tour that would take Charlie from Singapore to Seoul. Charlie told Will about Richard’s insistence, at how this research would reassure Charlie’s growing group of investors, how these resorts were the pinnacle of luxury ecotourism. “I’d be gone about six weeks, all told, leaving in a fortnight,” Charlie said. 

“That’s not much when you think about what you’d get for it -- six weeks and you’re staying in luxury resorts on an investor’s dime. Think of all you’ll learn about the ecotourism industry. Some of the clientele in Asia would probably be the clientele here…” Will tried to keep his voice even.

“Yeah, true,” said Charlie. “I hate to leave Jane, though.”

“She’ll still be here when you come back, Mate. But…”

“But what?”

“You seem like you’re really into her.”

“Is it that obvious?” Charlie grinned and reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a jewelry box. “This was my Nan’s, and then my Mum’s,” he said gently, opening the box and showing what had to be the emerald-cut yellow diamond. “I’m taking it to be cleaned tomorrow, and then…”

“Whoa, whoa, Christ, Charlie!” Will couldn’t believe Charlie had actually weaseled a piece of jewelry like that away from Louisa’s clutches. “Are you sure she feels the same way?”

“Of course she does!” Charlie was indignant.

“You’ve only known her since August.”

“But what we have is different. She’s not like the others. Jane’s so good-hearted, so angelic. And the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. Inside and out, full stop.”

Will was searching for the right words. He didn’t want to insult Jane Bennet. After all, Charlie thought the world of her. To insult her would backfire. “Have you considered you might scare her off with that ring?” 

“What? Well, no. I didn’t. I think she’ll be happy. We talk about the future together all the time.”

“Most girls would be freaked out, I think. What’s the rush?”

“You don’t think she feels the same way about me? You don’t think she’ll say yes?” Charlie asked. He looked as if this was the first time he was considering this idea.

 _Oh, I think she’ll say yes no matter what, Mate. That’s the issue._ Will took a long draft of his beer, trying to find the exact right words. “Well, you’re really enthusiastic. Anybody can see how you feel about her. But can you say the same about her? Are you positive she returns your feelings with the same strength?” Will paused, looking at Charlie’s now doubtful face. He wanted to soften what he was doing, but he didn’t want to take it back. This was the right thing to do. “Give it some time, take it slower. If it’s a good idea now, it’ll be a good idea in half a year.”

Charlie put the ring box back in his pocket. “I suppose…” he trailed off. “I mean, yeah, you’re right. And it’s not like we can’t stay in touch whilst I’m gone.”

“That’s the lad,” Will said. “Now tell me about your first stop in Asia.” 

Jane and Charlie spent one last weekend together at her place in Hammersmith before his flight to Malaysia. She had a tour with some clients in the early morning and couldn’t drive him to the airport, so they’d said goodbye late on Sunday night. They lingered kissing in the doorway until Jane realized she was in full view of her entire street. She gave Charlie a suddenly shy look and said, “Text when you get there, darling.” Charlie smiled and drove back to his place, thinking about Jane and packing, which he had not yet done.

His flight left fairly early, but Caroline insisted on driving him to the airport. “Thanks, Caro. That’s grand.”

“What else are sisters for?” she asked sweetly. 

“I don’t know, I haven’t figured it out yet,” Charlie said, teasing her. He ran back up stairs to grab a few things for his carry on, and Caroline quickly picked up his phone off the island in their kitchen. She opened his contacts and blocked Jane Bennet’s number. Charlie would be able to type messages to her, and they’d seem to go unanswered. Jane would not be able to get any of her messages through. It was for the best. Charlie was hopeless.


	7. Christmas at Longbourn

Charlie did _not_ text Jane from Singapore. She accounted for any number of things -- jet lag, losing his phone, a disorienting journey. Jane sent a text the morning after he’d left and heard nothing. She tried again a few hours later. Then she called, and nothing -- the line just rang and rang. After a few days, she really was worried. She decided to text Caroline. _Hey Caroline, how are you?! Just wanted to check in with you on something. Did Charlie land safely? I haven’t heard from him, and I was just worried something might have happened._

An hour went by and Jane received an answer. _Oh, yeah, how odd! He did land, safe and sound. It seems like things are going well so far. He’s got jet lag, but having a grand time. Here’s a pic he texted from going out on the town last night. It sounds like the nightlife in Singapore is incredible._ Caroline sent a picture of Charlie clearly taken at a party or a bar. There were loads of pretty girls in the picture. Charlie had his arm around the shoulders of a stunning looking woman in a low cut dress mini-dress and a glass of something in his other hand. He was smiling his huge, broad smile and looked flushed and happy.

Jane had had to grab the kitchen counter when that text came through. She put the phone down and placed both hands on the cold surface, leaning down, and telling herself to breathe through the actual ache she felt in her chest. _Oh, okay. That’s great. I’m glad he landed safely,_ Jane texted back. 

_I know, that’s the intrepid hotelier! So how are you, darling?_ Caroline texted back.

 _Oh, just fine. Work is busy. How about you?_

But Caroline did not answer her message. Not that night or any night after.

Lizzie was livid and trying to control it. Jane sat in the overstuffed chair in Lizzie’s office at Longbourn farm, looking down at the floor as Lizzie paced like a tigress. 

“He hasn’t texted or called, not a word?” Lizzie said incredulously. Lizzie had looked up Charlie’s instagram account, but other than a few pictures of monuments and the Singapore skyline, there were no clues to be followed.

“No. And I showed you Caroline’s texts. I...I don’t know how I could have been so mistaken about him. I was positive that he felt, well, like I did.”

“Janie, something is off about this.”

“How so?”

Lizzie stopped pacing her office, and spun on her heel to look at Jane. Her sister’s hurt and worried face squeezed her heart. “Well, let’s put it this way. If Will Darcy showed _half_ the attention and affection to Caroline Bingley that Charlie shows to you, she’d already have booked a wedding planner.”

Jane just looked at her, shaking her head slightly, staring down at the carpet. It was an old Persian rug Mrs. Bennet had donated to the cause of smartening up Lizzie’s office. Lizzie walked over to her sister, but Jane wouldn’t look up.

“He is in _love_ with you, Jane. Nothing could be more plain or obvious. So why wouldn’t he text or get in touch?”

“I...I don’t know. I suppose I imagined the strength of his feelings. Maybe he was just having fun.”

“Maybe. But that would be pretty sleazy of him. And I don’t think he’s like that,” Lizzie said, looking out her office window toward Netherfield.

“Well, what else could it be?”

“I just think there’s something fishy going on.”

“Do you think he’s safe?” Jane said, alarm rising in her voice, finally looking up.

“Oh, sure, sure. Nothing like that. I just feel like Caroline isn’t telling you the whole truth.”

“And why wouldn’t she? What has she to gain by lying?” Jane began to look uncomfortable. “Do you think she doesn’t like me? Maybe she doesn’t think I’m good enough for her brother.” Jane stood up, hugging a pillow tightly to her stomach. 

“Jane, almost nobody on the planet is good enough for _you_. You’ve got the sweetest, most generous heart in the world. But Charlie, well, I thought he might come close to being somewhat good enough for you. And I still do. Perhaps there’s a logical explanation.”

“That’s what I’d prefer to think, Lizzie. Let me take it in the best light I can understand it.”

Lizzie looked at Jane’s back with a face full of concern that she knew she had to gain control of. She didn’t want to needlessly worry Jane, or make her imagine conspiracy where there might be none. Instead, she walked up to Jane and took the pillow from her arms and held her hands, and looked into her sister’s eyes. 

“All will be well, and I can hardly argue against your desire to think the best of everybody involved. And, really, if Charlie isn’t back by your side in a few weeks, talking your ear off about his big plans for your future together, and sweeping you even further off your feet, I’ll be quite shocked.” Jane nodded, her eyes shimmering with a new round of tears about to spill over. Lizzie indulged in a brief fantasy of flying to Singapore and kicking the living shite out of Charles Bingley.

Charlie did not text or call, not the whole of his trip. Jane tried to hide it, but her hurt only grew worse. The date of his arrival back in London came and went, and no word. Jane even tried texting him again, and heard nothing. Lizzie started to think of other ideas -- had Jane not tried email? What if she stopped by his townhouse? Jane only said, “He never answered a single text or call, Lizzie. He’s had weeks. I have to accept it. If he cared for me once, he no longer does. I don't want to embarrass myself further.”

As the Bennets prepared Longbourn for Christmas, Mrs. Bennet opined to Lizzie. “What on _earth_ happened there? It seemed so promising!”

Lizzie and her mother were stationed in the boot room off the kitchen, at the large work table where Mrs. Bennet arranged garden cuttings in the summer and cooled biscuits in the winter. “I don’t know, Mum. I suppose Charlie’s a player.” Lizzie angrily lashed together evergreen boughs she’d cut earlier that day with Mary. It was their tradition to bring in greenery and literally deck the halls with it at Longbourn, dating all the way back to Mr. Bennet’s great grandfather’s time. Lizzie took a deep breath in through her nose, inhaling the smell of pine and letting it clear her head for a brief moment. 

“Well, honestly!” Mrs. Bennet huffed. “A _player_.”

“I know. But don’t talk about it too much to Jane, okay? It hurts her.”

“Well of course not, Elizabeth! I’m not a simpleton. I can see that! But I need to _be there for her,_ after all.” But Lizzie could see the wheels turning in her mother’s mind. Mum was relentless in her pursuit of the truth, particularly when it came to gossip or her daughters’ love lives. Lizzie had to remember to stock up on wine for when Jane finally came down to stay for the holiday. Something would have to take the edge of the questioning she was sure to have to endure. Lizzie ran through what was going on with Mary, Kitty, and Lydia lately, but there was no new scandal to take the place of the Bennet sister with the worst news. Jane’s heartbreak was going to be center stage in Mrs. Bennet’s mind. 

Mr. Bennet came in from the cold, his cheeks red from his customary morning tramp around the Longborn fields. “Well, my dears, what news?”

“Nothing, Dad,” Lizzie said. She set down the garland she was forming and went to his side, giving him a one-armed hug. “Look, Christmas is coming along.” She gestured at the work table. She was about to ask him what he saw on his walk when Mrs. Bennet broke in.

“Not nothing, Tom. We were discussing that scoundrel, Bingley,” she said, with enough venom in her voice to wilt the greenery.

“Oh, come on, Franny. Next to actually being in love, you know a girl likes to find herself crossed in love every now and then. It lends her a distinction among her girlfriends.” He hugged Lizzie back -- she’d always been his particular girl -- and began pulling off his outer gear. 

“Psssht. I never saw such a promising start to a relationship. Maybe when he comes back to Netherfield…” Mrs. Bennet mused, working on a pile of pinecones, twining them together to tuck into the garland.

Mr. Bennet pulled off his boots and grabbed his slippers from the cubby where he’d left them. “Oh, Franny. You’re wasted here. You’d have made a fine military man.” He patted her bum affectionately as he passed her by, and Mrs. Bennet ignored him, still thinking. “I’ll be in my study. Working.” He said this in a tone that implied do-not-disturb, and Franny barely looked up, just saying “Um-hmm. Bye, honey.”

Lizzie shook her head affectionately at this display. Tom and Franny Bennet and their endless, maddening loop of disorderly love. Oh yeah. Jane was going to need Lizzie to stock up on plenty of wine.

Christmas at Longbourn was as ever: noisy, trying, and happy. The six bedrooms upstairs had gone through many iterations over the years -- Kitty and Lydia shared until Jane moved out, and now each girl had her own room. Mary and Lizzie had also always had their own rooms, and the Bennets had always maintained a very comfortable guest room for family and friends. Mrs. Bennet’s parents were frequent visitors from the States until a few years before they passed away, and Mr. Bennet was known to host his Odd Fellow mates now and then over the years. 

At Christmas, however, all extra space in the house was given over to the Gardiners, the Bennet Family’s favorite guests. Edward Gardiner was Mrs. Bennet’s younger brother. He had come over to visit his big sister shortly after she and Mr. Bennet settled in at Longbourn, just a year or two after he finished college, and met Maggie Hawkins at Meryton’s Social Event of the Season, the Harvest Festival. Maggie had been visiting friends in the village, down from London for the weekend. Edward pursued her relentlessly, going so far as to get a student visa and enroll in business classes. He and Maggie married after less than a year of dating, Edward settling in to help with her family’s import business. When Maggie’s parents retired, she and Edward purchased the business and were now busy with their 4 growing children. 

Maggie and Edward were so steady and loving, and givers of such remarkably sensible advice, that as teenagers Lizzie and Jane often took problems to the Gardiners before their own parents. Jane gladly took an airbed in Lizzie’s room every Christmas, and even Lydia happily bunked with Kitty for the duration of the Gardiners’ visits. 

Maggie Gardiner had been observing Jane throughout the visit. On the morning of their third day together, Lizzie and Aunt Maggie took the children sledding on the steepest of the gentle rolling hills that belonged to Longbourn. The Gardiner cousins were ranging in age from 7 to 14, and even the 14 year-old couldn’t resist racing up and down the hill, not too jaded to enjoy the childish winter sport with her little brothers and sister. Lizzie and her aunt watched and laughed, stamping their snow boots to keep warm, keeping an eye out for trouble.

“So,” Maggie began. “Charlie Bingley?”

“Is a dirtbag,” Lizzie finished.

“Do you think so?” Aunt Maggie wore a chagrined expression as she watched her children flying down the hill. “Do you really think he was just using her? I mean, it’s not such an usual story, I suppose. A handsome young man at his time in life isn’t always the most serious, especially when he’s involved in something as exciting as international travel and hospitality.”

Lizzie scoffed. “I suppose not. But I would bet good money he was in love with Jane. I suspect his sister or maybe his friend he had with him had something to do with it. I can’t understand why, since Jane is essentially the closest thing to a perfect human being on the planet.”

“And you believe Jane was in love with him?”

“Still is.” Lizzie could hear how resentful her voice sounded. 

“Oh, dear. Well, this is truly a pity. Because with Jane’s disposition, it will take her some time to get over it. If it had happened to you, you would have laughed yourself out of it quickly.”

Lizzie smiled at Aunt Maggie, letting out a chuckle, the tension in her shoulders loosening. “Do you really think so? Maybe that’s true. I met somebody in September. It seemed like it could be the start of something -- we texted constantly, and he went with me to the party at Netherfield, you know, the one Mum couldn’t stop rehashing, driving Jane to crack open the second bottle of pinot noir. We kissed a bit that night, he said he wanted to go out again, and then he seemed to walk it back.”

“What is that, ghosting?”

“I couldn’t even call it that. It was like he wanted to keep the option open. He sent a few dumb texts, and I just sort of didn’t respond after a while. I guess I was the ghoster.” Lizzie laughed. “But I could see what he was doing. He was trying to pretend he didn’t act the way he acted, like he wasn’t the one who started it. So, good-bye to him.” She jumped up and down vigorously a few times to get more warmth into her limbs. Lizzie didn’t go into the Meghan King thing. 

Aunt Maggie tipped her head to the side and looked into Lizzie’s eyes once she stopped jumping. “And you weren’t sad about it?”

“I suppose not. If I’d really thought it could go anywhere, if I’d really had any other feelings for him than a bit of lust, maybe I would be. But I don’t think I’ve ever really been in love. If I had, I probably wouldn’t be able to stand the thought of him right now…” Lizzie trailed off, looking at the kids on their zillionth run down the hill, figuring out how to make their sleds go faster and farther each time. “Oh, why can’t people just say what they want when they meet you? Why all the subterfuge?!”

“Lizzie, darling, they’re not all like you.” Maggie put her arm around Lizzie and pulled their sides together. They looked into each other’s eyes for a beat, and both started laughing. 

“That’s probably for the best,” said Lizzie, hugging her aunt closer, and Aunt Maggie called to the children, “Five more minutes -- that means two more runs each!”

Lizzie and her aunt did their best to keep Mrs. Bennet’s commentary on Charlie Bingley to a minimum and distract her the moment she started up. The holiday passed quickly, and with the usual bickering, laughing, and same old games. A couple days after Boxing Day, Jane and the Gardiners packed up their cars and headed back to London. Lizzie watched Jane’s little red VW hatchback drive away from Longbourn. She said a silent little prayer to the universe that Jane would be okay.

This was Lizzie’s quiet season, of course. No jobs to be done, only learning, planning, and thinking to do. She had a fine library of garden design books, and pulled a few down that would help her plan a terraced garden. Charlotte Lucas -- now Collins -- had invited Lizzie to Kent after Christmas. Bill was in talks with Lady Catherine to design their new home next to her estate, and Charlotte had insisted that Lizzie be brought in to do the landscaping. Bill and Charlotte were staying at Rosings, Lady Catherine’s estate for about a month. Her ladyship, most graciously, as Bill pointed out, had extended the invitation to Lizzie for a week so she could collaborate with his noble mentor. Lizzie knew Charlotte always loved the terraced stone wall gardens at Longbourn that led down to the little coppice at the side of the house. She knew she would find a way to create that for Charlotte, whatever Lady Catherine’s designs and Bill Collins’ ostentatiousness would look like. Anything for Charlotte. Lizzie left Meryton for Kent not 6 days after Christmas, arriving in time for Lady Catherine’s traditional Twelfth Night dinner. Whatever the hell _that_ was.


	8. Epiphany

Grand wasn’t the right word for Rosings. Extravagant, lavish. Those words fit. It was stately, to be sure. Bill, who had met her in the drive with Charlotte, continued to press her to describe what thought of the place. Lizzie forced herself not to say “gaudy” as he pressed her for her reaction. 

“It certainly is of a time and place, Bill,” Lizzie said, looking up at the intensely decorative stone facade and Victorian turrets. There were gargoyles, ornate stone work, and brightly coloured awnings striped orange and green. “It creates quite an impression.” She turned to Charlotte with alarm -- “This isn’t what you’re modeling your new home after, is it?” 

“No, no,” Charlotte laughed. “I know this house is, um, overwhelming. Lady Catherine can tell you the story herself, but essentially, the old country home that was on this land burned to the ground in the mid 1800s. So this is not the original home. It was built up in the Victorian style, as you see. Lady Catherine has taken great pains to restore the exterior to its original look.”

“Yes, yes,” said Bill. “She is a strident believer in preserving architectural history.”

“Goodness, I see that, yes,” said Lizzie. She couldn’t wait to tell her father about this trip. If this was her home, what would the great lady herself be like?

A man came from inside the house and coordinated with Lizzie on what to bring inside from her boot. He set her things on a bench just in the inside hall, and asked to take her keys so he could drive her car around the back to the garage. “Oh, of course. Thank you,” Lizzie said. What year is this?, she thought to herself.

“I hope you brought something nice to wear this evening, Lizzie,” said Bill. “Did Charlotte tell you about her ladyship’s Twelfth Night dinner? It’s a great distinction to be asked.”

“Yes, indeed she did.”

“Yes, it’s just incredible. This will be my second time, and of course, Charlotte’s first.” 

A housekeeper met them as they walked in through the door. Lizzie’s things were nowhere in sight. “Miss Bennet, hello,” the woman said. “Your things have already been taken to your room. Mr. and Mrs. Collins, if you don’t mind, I’ll just take Miss Bennet upstairs. Cocktails will be served in the Orange Parlour in an hour, then dinner after that, of course.”

Lizzie looked at Charlotte, astonished at the weirdness of this style of grandeur. Charlotte gave a small shrug and lifted her hands. “Thank you, Mrs. Baker. Lizzie, we’ll come by for you and walk you there. The house is very grand, and it’s easy to get lost!”

“That it is,” Mrs. Baker chuckled. “Come, Miss Bennet.” Although Mrs. Baker was at least 70, and looked as plump and peaceful as a languid house cat, she moved like lightning. Lizzie shot one last quizzical look at Charlotte, quirking her lips up into a smirk, and half jogged after Mrs. Baker to catch up with her.

Mrs. Baker had led Lizzie through the halls of Rosings, filled with portraits of ancestors, and Victorian bric-a-brac. The colour palette was true to Victorian times, but Lizzie’s relief when Mrs. Baker opened her bedroom door was palpable when she realized the showmanship stopped in the public areas. The mellowness of the room pleased Lizzie. The Victorian details were still there, such as ornate woodwork around the fireplace and door and window framing, but the furniture was simple, and blended in calmly with the architecture. Everything was blue and cream coloured. Lizzie found herself taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly in the peace of the room. “I hope you’ll be comfortable, Miss,” said Mrs. Baker. “Here are your things,” she gestured to a bench at the foot of the bed. And through that door you’ll find a full bathroom. If you need anything, there’s an intercom just there, by the bed.”

“Oh, goodness, thank you,” said Lizzie. “Thank you for your hospitality. I’ve never stayed in a private home such as this one before.”

“We do keep to the old fashioned ways here,” chuckled Mrs. Baker again. “Young people like yourself always get a kick out of it.”

Lizzie laughed with her. “It’s definitely something to write home about.”

Mrs. Baker patted her on the arm. “Enjoy your stay, dear.” And she walked out, leaving Lizzie to lunge for her phone to text Charlotte. _Okay, WTF, Char? Have you just blown a huge wad of cash to punk me?_

Charlotte sent back: _I swear it’s real! I mean, it doesn’t FEEL real. But this is legit how Lady Catherine lives here at Rosings. Speaking of which, you DO have a nice dress for tonight, right? Bill was serious about that._

Lizzie’s fingers flew over the keys. _Yes, I mean, you did say to bring fancier clothes for night time. How fancy is this supposed to BE?_

Texting rapidly, she and Charlotte worked out that Lizzie would wear a deep burgundy v-neck dress with a pleated skirt that skimmed her knees, and a pair of matte gold heels, with gold jewelry. The dress was sleeveless, but Lizzie had anticipated some conservativeness from Lady Catherine, so she’d bring a pashmina along. With that solved, Lizzie lay down on her bed for a few moments, absorbing the weirdness of her surroundings, when her phone buzzed once more. Another text from Charlotte: _BTW, I don’t know if you knew this or already or not, but Will Darcy will be here tonight._

Lizzie dropped her phone next to her on the bed and put her hands over her face. “Oh, fuuuuuuuuuuck,” she groaned. She knew the cherubs carved into the woodwork were probably giving her a dirty look.

Bill and Charlotte came by for Lizzle and escorted her to the Orange Parlour, which was indeed...orange. An enormous antique tapestry of an orange tree hung on a large wall, and the couches and chairs, all Victorian in style, but modern in their manufacturing, were orange. The sun had come out on Lizzie’s drive into Kent, and right now, its last rays were lighting up the room, making it seem as though there was a large fire blazing. The effect was overwhelming.

There were already a few guests mingling in the parlor, which seemed to be connected to a large dining room off to the side. Lizzie scanned their clothes to make sure she wasn’t sticking out, but on the other hand, if she was, there wasn’t much she could do about it now. Internally, she shrugged. Bill was pointing out, not very sotto voce, who the company was. “Now that’s Sir Michael Gresham. He’s a neighbour of Rosings. Soon a neighbour of ours, right Charlotte? And then there’s one of Lady Catherine’s in-laws, Madeline Fitzwilliam, she married her ladyship’s eldest nephew on the Fitzwilliam side. I don’t know where her husband John Fitzwilliam might have gone off to.” Lizzie let his monologue roll over her as she scanned the room for Will Darcy. No sign of him yet. How would he act when they saw each other? Lizzie herself hoped he would just act normal. Whatever normal looked like for Will Darcy.

All told, there were maybe twenty people mingling about the room so far. A waiter came up and asked the trio what they’d like to drink. Lizzie asked for her usual whisky and soda, and felt herself relax into the weird room. When the waiter came back with their drinks, Charlotte and Bill guided her around the room, introducing her to the attendees. There were indeed a couple of Lords and Ladies in the room, and Lizzie greeted them with a smile, not expecting to find friends tonight. That was before Bill steered her toward Anne deBourgh and Richard Fitzwilliam. Anne was Lady Catherine’s daughter and one of the partners at Darcy & deBourgh, and Richard was her cousin. Lizzie liked them immediately.

Although Anne was quiet, Lizzie could see an ironic wit beneath the looks she gave Richard as he did his best to engage Lizzie in conversation and entertain her. She let herself be drawn into their comfortable, cousinly dynamic, smiling at the way they teased each other. Bill had urged Charlotte over to Sir Gresham, and now Lizzie could concentrate without him hovering. “So…” she said, lifting an eyebrow. “A Twelfth Night party, hmm?”

“Oh, I know, I know. It’s so silly. But Mum has been throwing them forever. For us, that’s officially the end of Christmas. Literally every scrap of Christmas decor will come down tomorrow. It’s a tradition she brought from her childhood home. She was a Fitzwilliam to start,” said Anne, gesturing at Richard. Anne was small, nearly a head shorter than Lizzie, with a slight figure. But she was beautifully dressed in a black column gown, and her fine dark red hair was cut in a bob with a dead straight fringe. Her features were rather plain, but for her beautiful large smile. Lizzie admired her elegance.

“The Fitzwilliams can take the blame for starting this nonsense, I suppose,” said Richard. “On the other hand, literally nobody on my side of the family wanted to carry this on. So now it’s squarely a deBourgh infliction.” Richard gave Anne a stern look, but broke laughing at her raised eyebrows. 

“I assure you, I won’t be continuing it. Ugh, the Bean and Pea. It’s always so awkward. Especially when you have to be Queen with one of your idiot boy cousins. Or worse, some old man. So creepy.”

“Sorry? King and Queen of what?” Lizzie asked, laughing curiously at Anne’s distaste.

“Oh, it’s an old tradition from Twelfth Night,” said Anne, heaving a melodramatic sigh, smiling. “It used to be that you’d bake a cake with a bean in it and the man who had the bean in his cake would be the king for the night, no matter what his station. And there would be a pea for a lady, who would be the queen. But of course, Mum takes it to another level. She has two cakes made -- a ladies’ cake, and a gentlemens’ cake -- they're enormous, and totally over the top. And then she makes the pair of them stay together the whole night after that, has a ‘servant’ stay by them, the whole works. It’s fine if you fancy the Bean King, but in this crowd, I’m related to most of the men.”

“Oh, if this were the olden days, Annie, you’d have married either Darcy or myself long ago,” Richard said, grabbing her around the waist and pulling him to her in a mock lascivious pose.

Anne laughed and pushed him away. “Good thing we no longer advocate for inbreeding to make sure families don’t lose their fortunes. Thank God for feminism or one of you tossers would own Rosings by now.”

“Creeping on Anne again, Rich?” Lizzie heard a familiar voice behind her, walking up to the group.

“Shut up, Will, she won’t have me. Not after all these long years,” Richard was laughing, and he stepped away from their little trio with his arms open. Lizzie turned to see Will Darcy hugging Richard and clapping him on the back. His eyes drifted over to Lizzie and widened in surprise.

“Elizabeth! What are you doing here at Rosings...at Twelfth Night dinner?” He looked astonished.

“I just love tradition and spectacle,” she said, shrugging and lifting her highball glass in the air. 

“Do you two know each other already?” Anne asked, and Lizzie and the two men tightened up their little circle again. Will was standing next to Lizzie, and she was conscious of him staring at her. Lizzie didn’t look over at him. 

“Yes, we met just this past September,” Lizzie turned to Will. “How are things?” she asked him.

“Quite good, thanks.” Will didn’t elaborate, or ask Lizzie any follow up questions.

Anne and Richard gave Will a puzzled look. “Well, anyway,” said Anne. “Lizzie, you’re here to collaborate with me and Mum on the Collins project, right?”

“Yes, that’s right. Your mother was very kind to host me for the week. I’m excited to have a look at the property and see what you’re thinking. I only have one absolute that I’m dying to build in, and I have about a dozen different ways I could do it, so I’m flexible.”

“Great,” said Anne warmly. “We’ll get started tomorrow. Mum’s really taken a shine to Bill. It’s sort of odd, but he seems to enjoy all the _mum_ attention she gives him.”

“It is a bit odd, isn’t it? I don’t know Bill well myself, but Charlotte is one of my oldest friends. We grew up together in Meryton, in Hertfordshire.” Lizzie could still feel Will's eyes on her, but had decided upon a do-not-engage strategy with him. “Bill does seem very happy to accept Lady Catherine’s...mentorship.”

“Meryton. Where have I heard that name before?” Richard looked musingly at Lizzie. 

“The firm is doing a job there,” Will supplied quickly.

“Oh, right! Charlie was talking about it. The run-down estate.”

“Do you know Charlie Bingley?” Lizzie said, turning with new interest toward Richard.

“I do! I just saw him in Bangkok a few weeks back. Nice fellow. He’s got big ideas for that place. It’ll be quite a lot of work.”

Lizzie was about to ask Richard more about Bingley in Thailand, when Will said quickly, “I really could use a drink, and Rich, it looks like you’re running low yourself. Let’s go straight to the source.” And he hustled Richard away in the direction of the bar.

Anne and Lizzie looked back at each other, and Anne just shrugged. “It was hard being the only girl growing up with those clods around. Until Will’s little sister Georgie came along, of course. She’s the only other girl cousin. But by then, I was a teenager. We all loved Georgiana, but she was like a little doll to us, not a playmate. It was probably hard on her.”

Lizzie and Anne talked about siblings, and being an only child, which Anne was. They laughed over stories from their recent Christmas holidays and refreshed their cocktails again. Anne was a thoughtful conversationalist and Lizzie warmed to her the more they spoke. “Here,” Anne said. “I see Mum. Let me introduce you to her.”

Anne and Lizzie set their drinks down on a side table, where they were promptly swooped up by a waiter Lizzie didn’t even see hovering near them until he was nearly upon them. They moved through the crowd, which had grown to about 50 guests by now, Anne smiling and bobbing her head graciously at people. Lady Catherine was in low, insistent conversation with one of her staff, gesturing to the dining room. Anne stayed discreetly to the side until she was finished. “Mummy?” said Anne. “I have someone I’d love you to meet.”

Lady Catherine wheeled around. If the first thing you could say about Anne was that she was tiny and slight, the first thing you could say about Lady Catherine was that she was tall and strong-featured. She had the same red hair as Anne, only it was thick and coiled into curls that spilled out of an updo, with just a few dignified streaks of grey running throughout. Lady Catherine wore an actual ball gown, black and filmy, with dolman sleeves and a billowing skirt. The addition of so much fabric to her person added an even greater sense of consequence. Gemstones glittered at her ears and throat, and a huge diamond glittered on her left ring finger. Lizzie “Ah, Anne,” she said. “Yes, who is it?” Lady Catherine peered over at Lizzie.

“Mummy, please meet Lizzie Bennet. Lizzie, this is my mother, Lady Catherine deBourgh.” Anne had become slightly more reserved in this introduction, but she looked up at her mother with affection. 

“Miss Bennet, how do you do? I understand you are working with us on the Collins project?” She held out her hand to Lizzie, who shook firmly.

“I am, thank you, Lady Catherine. And thank you so much for the invitation to stay here at your incredible home. Your commitment to architectural heritage is truly remarkable.”

Lady Catherine actually smiled. “Thank you, Miss Bennet.” Lizzie knew she had just purchased herself a little leeway and freedom with the Collins project now.

Lady Catherine gently interrogated Lizzie about her life. Four sisters raised on an estate in Meryton with a knighted father. Lady Catherine asked about the Collinswood Chair, and Mr. Bennet’s current work. “And you yourself, Miss Bennet. What drew you to landscape architecture, rather than actual architecture?”

The question sounded somewhat snide, and Lizzie could see Anne flinch slightly. Directness never intimidated Lizzie, however, nor did bluntness. She took the question in stride, answering, “Well, Lady Catherine, I love balancing nature and artifice. I was raised in the country, but not too far from London, and I’ve watched the city encroach further and further into the country. I think it's critical to conserve our natural heritage, but also cultivate appreciation for it. There are so many ways to subconsciously draw the eye to natural features, to create appreciation and the desire to protect the land.” Lizzie saw Anne nod subtly.

“Very interesting, Miss Bennet. I can see why Mrs. Collins insisted upon your inclusion in the creation of her new home. You’re quite the wild English rose, young lady.” And without saying good-bye, her ladyship gave a nod and swept away from her daughter and guest. 

“Did I pass?” Lizzie looked at Anne with raised eyebrows.

Anne gave a low laugh and nodded her head. “Come,” she said, guiding Lizzie by the elbow. “More drinks!”

At dinner, Lizzie found herself seated away from her new friends. The pattern of seating was indeed male, female, and hilariously enough, precedent was actually followed, all the way down the long and narrow dining room table. Lizzie had never been in a situation where this was the case. As the daughter of a knight, Lizzie found herself next to Sir Gresham, a kindly gentleman in his fifties who insisted upon being called “Mike” and on the other side was Will Darcy, who seemed insistent on maintaining silence between the two of them. Lizzie guessed this meant he was still angry.

Lizzie could not have guessed it, but Will was far from angry. Rather, was caught up in admiring her dark hair curling loosely against her long neck, where she had it gathered in a low twisted side ponytail. When she moved, he could detect that clean, flowing water smell. He tried not to look at her, tried to focus his attention on the woman seated to his right. This year Lady Catherine seated him next to Sir Michael’s daughter, a girl in her early twenties who looked as though she wished to be anywhere but at this idiotic dinner, sitting next to some prat in his thirties. Until he’d shown up and seen Lizzie looking over her shoulder at him, Will felt the same. 

He was exhilarated and terrified by her presence. Will hated the way he’d walked away from her at the Netherfield party. He’d been angry at her questions, at her doubt, but then his anger found its proper outlet: that arsehole Wickham. Will wondered if Elizbeth was still seeing him, if Wickham was still pursuing her. In a prudential light, Elizabeth had nothing Wickham could take from her, and therefore, would be unlikely to truly pursue her. In an emotional light, there was plenty of harm he could do. Lizzie was beautiful and sparkling, and Wickham was a human male. There was a lull in her conversation with Sir Michael, and though Will was nervous, he took his moment. “Elizabeth, how have you been?”

She turned, her expression surprised and somewhat guarded. “I’ve been doing well, thanks. This is my quiet season, I’m enjoying it.”

“Ah, so it is. Not much you can do right now, is there?” Will commanded his brain to think of something to talk about, something safe. The things he really wanted to ask were swirling around in his brain, and he couldn’t let them loose here at his aunt’s dinner table.

“No, very true. I do some exploratory meetings with clients, and quite a lot of research. I sometimes travel to warmer climates in the winter to get ideas. Then of course, it’s important to do winter research here on our home turf.”

“What, do you mean, to see what the effect of a garden in winter would be?” Will asked, now interested.

“Yes, that’s a good way to put it,” Lizzie angled towards him, warming to the subject. “The outdoors are important all year round. A garden is always working, and you can design it to remind people of that. Do you know much of the poet Rumi?”

Will picked up his wine glass, “Not really, no. Only the inspirational quotes people attach in their email signatures.”

Lizzie chuckled. “Yes, he does get co-opted quite a bit, doesn’t he? Well, I won’t be overly basic here, Will, and quote something you’d see on a yoga tank top or anything. No, there’s a line of his that I think of nearly every day in winter, it’s from his poem ‘Form is Ecstatic.’” She cleared her throat and recited, “‘Don’t think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter. It’s quiet, but the roots down there are riotous.’”

“Just because you can’t see it…” Will trailed off.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not there, growing and plotting a brilliant return,” she took a sip of her wine. “So, I guess it’s only _sort_ of my quiet season.”

Will looked down at the table, because he felt how strange it would be of him to stare into her eyes, to take her hand in his and examine her palm as though he could read her future, which is what he really wanted to do in that moment. Lizzie was quiet too, but then asked, “And how is Netherfield? How is Charlie?”

“Uh, he’s quite well, I think. He’s been in Asia, only back just a while ago. I haven’t seen him, actually. I’ve been working remotely from Pemberley for the holidays. My little sister and I were there for most of December, and this is the first I’ve been away. The Netherfield Project is on track. We’ll begin work there in late February, possibly.”

“Very nice,” Lizzie said, and then she remained quiet. Will’s brain turned frantically, wanting to keep the conversation going, but could come up with nothing. When Sir Michael asked her a question on her other side, Lizzie turned her body away from him and launched back into conversation with the older man.

Will swigged his wine and caught Richard’s eye from a few seats away. He had been watching Lizzie and Will’s interaction. Though he couldn’t have heard it, he must have seen Will’s face. Will considered what he could have looked like as he listened to Lizzie -- what was Richard picking up on? Richard raised an eyebrow questioningly, but Will simply shook his head.

Lizzie had wanted to press Will for more information about Charlie, but at the end of the day, what did it matter? Charlie had gone off Jane and handled it in a cruel manner. What else was there to know? She turned the matter over in her head and put it to the side when Lady Catherine stood up and gestured to the two enormous cakes that had been centerpieces at either end of the long table. The staff took the two cakes off the table and began cutting them into elegant little pieces, laying them on fine china. The men were given their cake on blue plates and the women on pink. 

Lady Catherine instructed them to begin eating, but carefully. “For in the ladies’ cake, you’ll find a dried pea, and in the gentlemens’ cake, you’ll find a dried bean. The lucky finders of our pea and bean will be Queen and King for the night!”

Despite the silliness of the whole night, Lizzie did find herself charmed by the ritual. That is, until she bit down softly on a dried pea. _Oh, no,_ she thought. She brought her napkin to her lips and tried to delicately spit out the pea. Sir Michael saw her and yelled, “Oh, Lady Catherine, I think we’ve got our Queen right here!” Lizzie turned bright red as all the eyes in the room swiveled to her and the cheers began. A few moments later Richard extracted a bean from his mouth and the cheers grew louder. “Richard! Miss Bennet! Please do join me at the front of the table!’

 _Oh, God,_ Lizzie thought, as she smiled wanly at the clapping crowd. _This is so weird._ She met Richard at Lady Catherine’s side, and he just laughed and held out his hands helplessly. Lady Catherine took a crown from the table and placed it on Richard’s head. He didn’t seem embarrassed so much as resigned. She then picked up a tiara and placed it on Lizzie’s head, nestling it into her hair. Lizzie thought it might actually be a tiara somebody had worn once upon a time without irony. “Ladies and Gentlemen, our Royalty for the night! Elizabeth Bennet and Richard Fitzwilliam will open the dance!”

Lizzie’s eyes found Charlotte’s down the table and gave her a _What the Fuck!?_ expression. Charlotte just shrugged and looked apologetic. But Lizzie could see Charlotte’s shoulders shaking with laughter.

The crowd began standing up and Lady Catherine directed them into the ball room off the dining room. A small band was stationed on a built in wooden stage and a little further down, there were two ornate chairs on a riser, where Richard led Lizzie to sit. He held her hand as she took her seat on the throne, then sat in his own slightly higher chair. “You know this is insane, right?” Lizzie asked, finally laughing.

Richard chuckled, and then as he watched Lizzie attempt to gain control over her own laughter, started laughing in earnest. “I do know it. Sometimes it’s easy to forget until an outsider comes in and points out the obvious.” This only made her laugh harder. She reached up to stop tears from ruining her mascara, and Richard handed her a handkerchief. They calmed down and caught their breath. 

Will watched the two of them as he stood by Anne and the Collinses. She was lovely in her deep red dress, laughing to the point of tears, Richard laughing along with her. Will looked on as Lizzie tried to give Richard back his handkerchief, but he gestured for her to keep it, and she tucked it into the pocket of her skirt. The familiar scene unfolded -- Lady Catherine began her Twelfth Night speech, talking about its tradition in her family, and how now the end of the holiday season was finally here, “so the new year may begin”. 

Over the years, Lady Catherine had been forced to hire a band who played more modern music, as nobody would dance to the classical country dances she’d known growing up. This was a band from London who would agree to play a waltz to open the party, then Lady Catherine would leave them to their own devices. She instructed them to begin, and gestured to Richard and Lizzie to open the dance. Richard led her to the floor. Richard said something to Lizzie, and she smiled up at him, nodding. Will bet that Richard was asking her if she knew how to waltz. Richard had also been forced into ballroom lessons in his youth. He held an impressively taught frame, and Lizzie stepped right into his arms, her limbs also arched and at elegant attention. Will got the feeling Lizzie was going to prove a beautiful waltzer.

Lady Catherine let the band pick whatever they wanted, so long as it was in waltz time, and was not vulgar. Soon the room was filled with the opening notes of “Time Is on My Side”, by the Stones. “I never realized this was a waltz,” said Bill to the little group. The rest all murmured in agreement, except Will. He was watching Lizzie in his cousin’s arms. 

Lizzie seemed now to fully embrace the absurdity of the whole situation. As soon as the opening riff was over, she and Richard took their first steps with perfect precision, and total gaiety on their faces. The band had begun playing in a perfunctory manner -- they’d been playing the Twelfth Night dinner for at least five years now. But Lizzie’s playfulness soon infected the whole room. She laughed, and mugged, and in turn, Richard did the same. He used up the entire dance floor, moving about in enormous swoops, never taking his eyes off Lizzie’s face, never stopping smiling. He spoke to her, clearly telling her, “Here comes a spin, here comes a flourish”, and she hammed it up. The crowd laughed, charmed. Even Lady Catherine was smiling. Lizzie Bennet was a success. Will looked at the band, who seemed to be dragging out the song at this point, smiling as they watched Richard and Lizzie. Will saw Richard say the word “lift” and on the next step, Lizzie did a delicate little jump in time with the beat, and Richard lifted her under the shoulders and spun her a few times. He set her down and they did a few more twirls. Then Richard pulled her into a dip. Lizzie put her hand on the tiara to stop it from falling and Will could see her panting with laughter as her body draped over Richard’s limbs. The band took their cue and wound down the song. The applause was thunderous and Will felt almost nauseated with jealousy. Richard could _not_ go after Elizabeth Bennet. If Will couldn’t, Richard couldn’t.

As Anne was clapping, she looked at Will, now with her eyebrows raised. The Collinses went out to the floor as did other couples, and Anne said to Will, “Oh, goodness. _That’s ,_ why you’re acting so weird. You _like_ her!”


	9. Wild English Rose

Will lay awake in bed most of the night, thinking about the party, and how Anne had wrenched out the embarrassing confession that, yes, he did indeed like Elizabeth Bennet.

Anne had looked at him expectantly, waiting for the “but” that had to be involved. “So, what’s the problem? Why haven’t you asked her out?” They had gone back to the Orange Parlour, where the non-dancers were drinking and talking in small animated groups. This didn’t have the usual dull feeling of a regular Twelfth Night party. Lizzie and Richard’s turn as the Pea Queen and Bean King had lifted the entire evening into mirth. Except, of course, for Will. “Wait,” Anne said. “Are you afraid to ask her out?”

“What, no! I don’t know. She’s not very encouraging. I don’t know if she likes me back. But it’s not even that, Annie. I just don’t see how it would work between us. Our lives are so different.”

“Yeah, I mean, clearly, she doesn’t fit in with our scene. She only walked into a totally bizarre situation created by our freakshow family, acted like it was completely normal, and everyone fell madly in love with her. _Mum_ likes her, for pity’s sake.” Anne rolled her eyes at Will’s despair and sipped her drink. “Hold on. Do you mean her family doesn’t have money? Is that why you think it wouldn’t work?”

“Well, I think they have _some_ money. They don’t have our kind of money.”

“She’s less a gold digger or social climber than the likes you normally date. Is that…” Anne stopped. “They’re not all like Wickham,” she said softly. “That’s what you’ve got in mind, isn’t it?”

Will didn’t say anything. Anne grabbed his hand and squeezed it briefly. “It’s been years, Will. It’s over. I hardly think about it anymore.”

“Well, I don’t think about it all the time or anything. But it’s always on my mind when somebody likes me. Or I suppose when I like them, which isn’t often.” He took a long sip of his beer, and looked at his cousin. The idea of Wickham juxtaposed with Lizzie Bennet silenced and chilled them both. Will thought about telling Anne about how Lizzie seemed to have been dating or was still possibly dating Wickham, but decided to hold that back. Anne stopped teasing and prodding him, and they spent the rest of the night circulating and talking about the firm. It was solidly in their control now, and Anne and Will were shaping it into something new and exciting while paying homage to the past. They were good at speaking about work.

On his rounds through the party, Will saw that Lizzie had been in high demand all night. She and Richard danced a few more together, but everybody wanted to speak to the “Queen”, get her drinks and sweets, and dance with her. The few times Will had walked over by the ball room, he saw her engaged in pleasant chat, or being led around the floor by different men. All the same, there was a distance he observed about her. She drew people into conversation, not saying much, offering pithy observations, and taking everything in. Was it so she could manipulate the information later? Or was she just a good listener? _This has to be pretty good for her little business, too,_ he thought. This was the first time he allowed himself to admit to the thought that she was as charming as George Wickham. 

He lay awake several hours endeavoring to figure it out before falling into a restless sleep.

Lady Catherine served breakfast in the old fashioned style when Rosings had houseguests. A buffet was set out in the smaller dining room, and the members of the household served themselves. When Will eventually gave up on sleep and came to eat, he found only Lizzie Bennet at the table. She had a steaming cup of milky coffee in front of her, and a plate of eggs and toast that she was working her way through as she read _The Times._ Lizzie looked up and gave Will a small, polite smile. “Good morning,” she said. “Sleep well?”

Will grunted. “Too much to drink. It always makes me restless at night. I’m barely awake right now, but I don’t think I could go back to sleep if I tried.”

“Ah, yes. That can happen for me, too. Well, hopefully breakfast will help,” she said politely, and went back to her paper.

Will filled his plate with bacon, eggs, and fruit, and filled a cup to the brim with scalding black coffee. He settled himself a couple of seats down from Lizzie, and leaned over to rifle through the sections of the paper still on the table. She had the front page, so he satisfied himself with the Sport section. Will tried to focus on the articles, his food, his dark roast, anything but Elizabeth Bennet. But with her so near, he wanted to study her. She was dressed for a site visit in winter: warm woolen turtleneck jumper, jeans, and workmanlike boots. Her hair was down and damp at the ends, and drying into loose waves. Her face was free of any makeup, and the weak January sunlight refracting about the yellow breakfast room gave her skin a warm glow. Lizzie’s eyes looked troubled as she read, and a small crease formed on her forehead. Suddenly she sighed and set down the paper, turning back to her eggs and toast. She saw Will watching her and she sighed again. “Nothing but sad, bad news right now,” she said, gesturing to the discarded paper.

“Still, we must look,” Will heard himself say automatically. That was something his father used to say whenever his mother expressed a similar thought about the state of the world. He surprised himself with the turn of phrase. It popped out of his mouth almost unbidden, deeply programmed into his mind.

“Quite right,” she said. “But first coffee,” she said, and Will laughed. She gave him a slightly bigger smile this time, and they finished their breakfast in what seemed to him like comfortable silence. Soon the Collinses joined them and eventually Anne and Richard came down, too. The group teased Lizzie and Richard for a bit over their successful Twelfth Night reign, and then talk turned to the Collinses’ new home. 

Will couldn’t understand Bill Collins. He was perfectly successful on his own with the business that had delineated from his father’s partnership with Lizzie’s father. Lady Catherine was overbearing, and her frankness bordered on rudeness more often than not, and often came from a place of her own experience, not the reality of others. Charlotte seemed like a sensible woman to Will, and yet this was the man she’d chosen to be with. _No accounting for taste, I guess,_ Will thought to himself. Lizzie had used the word “mentorship” last night in regards to Lady Catherine and Bill, and it seemed fitting enough. Will figured Bill’s desire for such a figure as Lady Catherine and her desire for such a character as Bill’s fulfilled a need for both of them. And it certainly kept Lady Catherine out of Will and Anne’s hair as they moved the firm forward. Lady Catherine remained in semi-retirement, and seemed content to take smaller projects outside of town, in Kent and Surrey mostly. 

They were to head over to the site at 10:30. Richard begged off, as he had nothing to do with the firm, and had work to get started on for the week. Although Will hadn’t been involved with this project at all, and Lady Catherine and Anne had this one well in hand, he was curious. They met in the front of Rosings, their cars having been delivered to the porte cochere by one of the groundskeepers on staff. Lizzie piled in with the Collinses and Will with his family, and they caravanned to the location of the Collinses’ new home.

Lizzie got out of the car, hauling a kit with her, and followed Charlotte as she eagerly explained what the property would become. She linked her arm into Charlotte’s, and allowed herself to be pulled away from the group. Charlotte was happy to be able to go over her plans and dreams for the space without Lady Catherine’s authoritative explanations or Bill’s simpering. The plot of land totaled about one hectare, and comprised a gently sloping hill that edged farmland on the west and the lands of Rosing on the east and along its rear. There were some insignificant scrubby trees along the farmer’s edge. “Is there water there?” Lizzie asked, pointing toward the clump of trees. Charlotte nodded. “Yes, a wee stream.” Lizzie squeezed Charlotte’s arm. “It’s beautiful. Well done, you and Bill. I love it. Let’s go hear the full story.”

Lizzie and Charlotte walked back to the others, who were gathered around Lady Catherine. Anne was unrolling blueprints and splaying them out on the hood of her mother’s car. She waved Lizzie over to her, and Will followed. He didn’t know much about this project. _And you want to stand next to Elizabeth,_ he said to himself. Anne had the goodness not to give him a knowing look as Will positioned himself next to Lizzie to hear the recital of the project’s scope and specs. It was to be a passive house, with its design inspired by the great English cottages in the area. Lizzie asked Anne about grading challenges and what she anticipated in regard to water retention issues. Anne provided some preliminary research to Lizzie, pulling a sheet out of her own folder, and Lizzie nodded her thanks. They walked over to the point where the house would be built, Will trailing behind the two women. Lady Catherine kept the Collinses occupied with her thoughts on how the new couple would need to integrate themselves into the neighbourhood.

Anne had marked out the corners of the house with plywood stakes and string. Lizzie pulled out her phone to take pictures of the house’s situation and what its views would encompass, but was having difficulty balancing her bag. Will wordlessly took it from her, and Lizzie nodded her thanks with a smile. She was immediately off and running. Anne looked at Will and silently held her clasped hands beneath her chin and fluttered her eyelashes at Will. “I’ll kill you,” Will mouthed back to her, and Anne laughed silently. “You are a total puppy right now, Fitzwilliam Darcy,” she said, chuckling as Will turned pink.

“Oh, Anne, do you mind?” Lizzie called over her shoulder. “Just a quick question about this area here…” Anne walked over, but Will stayed near the site of the house. He watched Lizzie gesture to the area beyond the front of the house, closer to the road. She nodded her head as Anne spoke, and pulled out a pen and pad to jot some things down. Lizzie continued to ask questions of Anne, who looked thoughtful and deliberate in her answers. Soon the two women were laughing, and Lizzie continued taking notes. As he watched them collaborating and smiling at each other, Will was startled by the approach of his aunt.

“A new home in this area. It will be quite important to not make it look too gauche, too nouveau riche,” Aunt Catherine said, sniffing as she looked over the string Anne had laid out. 

“Well, naturally, but it is a new home,” Will said. “If you think it will be tacky, I wonder that you agreed to undertake it. We’ve never been known for building new residences.”

“Well, Collins is my protege. And perhaps country homes are a new direction the firm can take.” His aunt turned away from the outline of the house, where Bill and Charlotte were circling the outline of the structure. Her eyes settled on Anne and Lizzie.

Will said nothing. It was best not to draw attention to the fact that new directions were no longer determined by Lady Catherine. 

“That little Miss Bennet is quite something, isn’t she? She and Richard would do very well together, don’t you think?” 

Will felt his heart seize. “Why Richard? He’ll be back off to Asia soon enough. He’s not ready to settle down.”

“They looked so well together last night, that’s why Richard. And they’re both quite jovial. It would be a great match for her. Bennet is a noble family, but not a great family. To join together with the son of an Earl…” Lady Catherine wrapped her cashmere shawl tighter around her neck.

“Somehow I doubt Elizabeth Bennet cares about titles and consequence of that sort,” Will felt compelled to say.

“Fitzwilliam, that _is_ naive. Now come. Help me back to the car. It is positively frigid out here. My work has been done.”

Anne saw Will lead her mother back to the car, and she and Lizzie wrapped up their talk. They could always come back later. It was determined that the Darcy and deBourgh car would return to Rosings, and Lizzie and the Collinses would linger for a bit longer. 

Lizzie asked Bill and Charlotte what they envisioned for the future. Bill looked down at Charlotte, and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in and looking for all the world like a man in love. “Loads of little Charlottes running around the place, making a mess. So whatever you design for us, Lizzie, it needs to be kid friendly.” Charlotte smiled and leaned her head against his chest, looking pleased and embarrassed. For the first time since she met him, Lizzie gave Bill Collins a real smile. “Come on then,” Lizzie said. “Let’s take a little walk around. I have lots of ideas.”

Back at Rosings, Lady Catherine had lunch ready for them. They ate in the small yellow dining room, and Lady Catherine regaled Bill and Charlotte with stories of parties they had held over the years, and advised them about the local schools, and lessons the children would need. Charlotte heard it all with great patience, and Lizzie wondered where Charlotte had gone off to in her own mind. 

At her end of the table, Richard was regaling the others with a tale of getting lost in Kyoto and accidentally walking onto a German tour group’s bus. They laughed as he described being stranded an hour outside of the city, trying to use Google Translate in both German and Japanese. “Needless to say, I didn’t close that deal,” he finished.

“Where in Asia are you actually based?” Lizzie asked. 

“Well, your majesty, I run the Asian arm of the Fitzwilliams’ property business, and our offices are based in Bangkok. I’ve been there about five years now.”

“And do you enjoy it? You must, having been there so long.” Lizzie buttered another roll as she spoke.

“I do,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind coming back home, though. I’ve made some good friends over the years there, but it’s a bit lonely. When you live abroad, you always have one foot in each place.”

“Oh, you love it there, you know you do,” said Anne. 

“Yes, of course I do. But I miss you lot. And my friends here. And I’d like to settle down. I may not do many more years in Thailand. Maybe we can hire out the role.”

“Uncle Reg might not like that,” said Will.

“He probably wouldn’t. But if I told him it was time for me to come home and find an English Rose, he might give me more leeway.” He turned to Lizzie and said in a mockney accent, “‘Ow ‘bout you, love? You know we get on well together.”

Lizzie just laughed and turned back to her food, shaking her head.

“Now, come on, Queen Lizzie. You can’t laugh your way out of this one. Now why won’t you have me? You already know we make a great dance team. Is there someone else?”

Will was trying not to glower. 

“No, I’m single, there’s nobody else. But you’ll just have to find another English Rose all the same, King Richard. For me, there will be no marriage without the very deepest and most abiding love.” Her voice was light, but firm, and Richard took the hint and slowed his teasing.

“Well, well. I’ll keep looking then,” Richard sighed dramatically. “Damn. This close. I really thought I had you with that waltz.”

The lunch party broke up not long after, and Anne invited Lizzie into the conservatory to work. “It’s beautiful in there, of course, but the main reason is it’s got the best WiFi in the house. Come on,” said Anne, and she led Lizzie out of the room. 

Will got up and walked over to the window. A moment later Richard joined him, and nudged him. “What are you waiting for with her?” he asked Will. 

Will debated whether or not to deny he had any interest in Elizabeth Bennet, then finally said, “It’s complicated.”

“No, no, Darcy. That’s not true. It's the least complicated thing in the world. You're overthinking it. Everything you need to know about her to make a good beginning is right there for the knowing,” and Richard walked away. Behind him, Will heard Richard goad their aunt into a game of backgammon. “Come on, old girl. Let’s let the Collinses have a break from all the planning.” He heard Aunt Catherine huff, but she did love backgammon. Richard always knew his target better than they knew themselves.


	10. A Good Beginning

_A good beginning._ Will turned that idea over in his mind for the rest of the day, and into the next morning. As Will had suspected, Anne had done the bulk of the drafting on the Collinses’ new home, and she and Lizzie spent a good deal of time in conversation together. Will and Richard also situated themselves in the Conservatory, with laptops set up at a small table apart from Lizzie and Anne. This was the third day of his visit, and while he liked to keep his time at Rosings brief, Will couldn’t imagine leaving if Lizzie Bennet was still ensconced there. The January sunlight shone in through the glass dome of the room, and filtered down through the hundreds of plant leaves, the smell of warm, damp dirt filled his lungs. He listened for the sound of Lizzie Bennet’s low chuckles intermingled amongst Anne’s high, tinkling laugh, and felt happy.

After lunch, Lizzie declared her intention to walk over to the Collinses’ property to do some thinking. Richard looked at Will, and almost too quickly, Will said, “I’m planning on a run. I’ll walk you over, if you like?”

“Um, sure. Thank you. I wouldn’t mind being shown the way,” said Lizzie. “Meet you in the hall -- is a half an hour okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, good,” said Will. Richard gave him a discreet thumbs up, and Will left to change into his running clothes. When he met Lizzie downstairs, she was wrapped up warmly and gave him her pleasant, polite smile. “Shall we?” Will asked. “Lead the way,” she instructed him.

Their walk was quiet, with Will telling her bits and pieces about the geography and landscape. Lizzie nodded at the information, gazing about her, stopping to take a picture every now and then. She stooped once to look at a specimen that was apparently unique and fascinating to her, but seemed like a weed to Will. He found her excitement over it to be a pretty endearing sight. They continued through the fallow meadows silently and when they were halfway to the property, she finally asked, “Do you visit Rosings often? You seem to know the paths and the land very well.”

“I do. Ever since my uncle Lewis passed I try to come and help Anne and Aunt Catherine with the property. The deBourgh family has sold off much of Rosings’ land over the years, but there’s still quite a lot left. Anne isn’t an outdoorsy person, and my Aunt depends on me for the forest management.” 

“That’s kind of you,” Lizzie said. “Those woods are beautiful, you’ve done well.” She waved toward the groves of trees that had been bordering their walk.

Will nodded, and felt at a loss for what to say next, so they just walked along in quiet. Finally he remembered he could ask her about work. “And what are you thinking about the Collinses’ gardens? You said you had something you knew you wanted to do, even before you got here?”

“Oh, yes,” Lizzie smiled. “A terraced garden. And I think it will work perfectly, the way the land slopes down from the rear of where the house will be. I’m very excited. It’ll be perfect for Charlotte.”

“How so?”

“Charlotte has always loved the terraced garden at Longbourn. I want to make one that’s all her own. They hope to have children, so I can make the lowest garden a safe little space for a toddler.”

“Bill seems very fortunate in his marriage. Charlotte is a smart woman, she seems kind,” Will paused and asked “Do you think they make a happy couple?” Lizzie knew what Will was asking underneath: how could kind, smart Charlotte pair herself up with awkward, toadying Bill?

Lizzie looked at him, bobbing her head in agreement. “She _is_ kind.” And then she paused, as if wondering whether or not to share more. “I do think it’s a good match,” she continued. “To be honest, I didn’t at first. But they seem to have a good understanding between them of what it will take to make themselves happy.”

“That’s a rather practical view. From what you said the other day, I figured you’d say love is all a person needs.”

Lizzie laughed as she hopped over a muddy spot on the trail. “How unfortunate for me to meet up with a person so easily able to expose the tip of my silly opinions, and question the foundation below. I suppose that sounded very naive to you.”

“No, not necessarily,” said Will. “I confess it does sound a little simplistic.”

Lizzie was a few steps ahead of him but stopped to wait for him. “In my experience, simple only means clear. It doesn’t necessarily equate easy.”

“Meaning?” Will fell in step alongside her and they continued. He watched the plumes of steamy breath coming out of their mouths.

“Love is a few simple ingredients -- respect, gratitude and understanding for who the other person is, just to name a few. And of course, affection. The way those ingredients come together is different for every couple, though. And the application of those ingredients is a choice that two people have to make together, over and over again, to be really happy with each other.” She spoke lightly, not looking at him.

“So how does that augur for the Collinses’ chance at happiness?”

“Charlotte often tells me she’s not a romantic. I think she would say she’s chosen to be with Bill for practical reasons, such as being ready to start a family. But she sees him with her eyes open, and I’m certain she’ll give their marriage her all. She’ll ask for what she needs, and in return, she’ll give him what he needs. That kind of devotion to a partnership does strike me as somewhat romantic. Their odds seem perfectly decent to me. I suppose many marriages have been built on less.” 

Will found himself unable to answer this speech of hers. He would have liked to ask more, but Lizzie had given him much to think about. A few minutes more found them at the boundary of Rosings and the Collinses’ plot. “Here we are, Elizabeth,” said Will. His voice was thick, and he cleared his throat.

Lizzie turned to him and gave that little smile again. “Thanks. Enjoy your run.” And she jogged away from him, through a little cluster of pine trees, onto the Collinses’ land. Will watched her for a moment, then began his run, hardly knowing where to point himself.

Lizzie had enjoyed collaborating with Anne over the course of the week, and felt they came to a good point in Lizzie’s portion of the design. Lizzie found herself without much to do at Rosings on her last day, yet she felt it would be rude to leave early. That morning, she learned at breakfast that Anne and Will had some work to do, and that Bill and Charlotte were going to meet with their builder. Lady Catherine was deep in talks with Mrs. Baker, and Lizzie wasn’t sure where Richard had gotten off to. This meant a free day all to herself, and Lizzie felt a little shiver of pleasure at the idea.

She avoided the conservatory, as Anne and Will were working there. Instead, she begged another cup of coffee from the kitchen staff and hid herself in the library, reading a novel she hadn’t been able to get to all week. It was snowing outside, and Lizzie occasionally stopped reading to watch the little flurries against the library window, stretching contentedly in the reclining leather chair she'd settled into. According to the weather report, the snow would stop soon, and Lizzie thought she might be able to head out for one last walk around Rosings. She’d taken a walk every day to Bill and Charlotte’s property, and on each occasion, Will Darcy had found her. One time, she was exploring the little stream at the boundary of the property, and he’d popped out of nowhere, startling her. The next time he’d come upon her walking back to Rosings, and had stopped his running to walk with her. Then yesterday, he’d actually stuck around with her as she surveyed the property and made her notes. She couldn’t account for it. Their conversations were never very deep, and he didn’t seem to have much to say for himself. Lizzie chalked it up to boredom. If Richard and Anne were busy, Lizzie supposed she was an acceptable option for companionship in Will’s eyes.

When the snow let up a bit before lunchtime, Lizzie decided to take a different tack for today’s hike. She stopped in the kitchen and asked the cook if she could make herself a sandwich to take away. The woman tut-tutted at her, and instructed her to sit, and Lizzie smiled as the lady made her an enormous grilled panini out of luxury ingredients pulled from the refrigerator and cabinets. The cook cut it up for her, and packed it along with napkins and a bottle of water into a small cloth sack. “There you are, love.” Lizzie thanked her, and slipped off stealthily to her room. She would take an unexpected path today, in the opposite direction, lest Will attempt to find her on his run today. She texted Charlotte to let her know she wouldn’t be at lunch, and tucked the bag from the kitchen into her backpack. She pulled on her warmest clothes and set out the back door.

Rosings was lovely in the snow, even if the landscape was a bit underdeveloped. Lizzie walked around the edges of the property where she had not yet been, and when she was hungry, found a large flat rock along the edge of a frozen pond to enjoy her sandwich. She listened to a few birds in the trees beyond, and checked her watch. It was late afternoon, definitely time to be making her way back. Lizzie stood up and brushed the crumbs off her lap, and the dust from her cold bum. As she walked back in the direction of Rosings, she saw a man in a dark blue coat heading the same way. He waved to her when he spotted her, and moved toward her. It turned out to be Richard. He fell in step beside her. “Well, it’s our last day together, Queen Lizzie. I had a grand time getting to know you,” he hooked his arm around her shoulders for a brief moment and gave her a squeeze.

Lizzie laughed. “Same here. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat a slice of cake again without a flutter of PTSD.”

Richard laughed along with her. “Oh, you handled it beautifully.”

“It was fun, actually. It really was. You’re a splendid dancer. You made it easy,” she patted his arm quickly in an affectionate, friendly gesture of her own. “Will you be heading back to Thailand soon?”

“Quite soon. I’ll have another visit with my parents and elder brother, then back to Bangkok.”

“Were you serious about wanting to come back?” Lizzie asked. 

“I was, yeah. I really do miss England. I’ve been living abroad for nearly seven years. I do love it there. I’ve made good friends and there are always visitors from home. I’m lucky enough to live in a place people want to visit.”

“Yes, you’d probably be a lot worse off if you were stationed in the Siberian properties market, certainly.”

Richard smiled. “Anyway. It really is time to come back and settle down a bit. Not getting any younger.”

They walked in quiet for a bit, and Lizzie took her chance. “I remember on the night we met, you mentioned you’d just seen Charlie Bingley. How did he find Bangkok? I believe he was looking at some resort properties?”

“Oh, he enjoyed it. I had a mate meet him in Singapore. He showed Charlie around, had him stay a few nights in one of the premier eco-resorts. To be honest, I thought that would be sufficient, given that the rest of his tour was more of the same.”

“Oh?” Lizzie said, keeping her voice even, and her curiosity tamped down.

“In his shoes, I’d have maybe done a couple of resorts in Asia -- there’s such a strong tourism relationship between the UK and Asian countries. But I’d have wrapped it up and done some visits to other spots in Europe, and possibly even off the eastern coast of Africa. A month in Asia is a long time for what he could hope to gain.”

“I got the impression his investors were somewhat insistent.”

“Ha. More like Will was insistent. I get the sense that he was trying to help clear Charlie’s head a bit. I suggested a week, and Will twisted my arm to call in some favors to make it six weeks.”

“Oh, why’s that?” Again, Lizzie forced herself to sound calm and disinterested.

“Oh, some girl. That’s always the way with Charlie. He’s always in love. I think he got himself into a bit of a tangle. Will and Charlie’s sister thought it was moving too fast, and I think Will suggested this tour to help him cool his heels.”

Lizzie didn’t say anything, just focused on breathing steadily. “Goodness, Charlie’s lucky to have a committee running his life for him, isn’t he?” She tried to sound joking. “I wonder what kind of tangle Will meant.”

“Charlie’s rich, and I think this girl was, well…”

“A _gold digger?_ ”

“It’s not so unusual, really, with blokes like Charlie. He’s rich, and he’s somewhat gullible. I think Will was just trying to watch out for his old friend.”

Lizzie drew in a huge breath and stayed silent.

After a few moments, Richard looked down at her as they walked along. She had slowed her pace. “Penny for your thoughts,” he said.

“I’ve been thinking over what you’ve told me,” Lizzie spoke slowly. “It seems rather a breach. Why was Will Darcy to be the judge of his friend’s relationship?”

“You think it was an overstep?” Richard said. “Maybe Will could see something Charlie couldn’t. And after all, when I saw him in Thailand, Charlie never mentioned any girl.”

“Maybe there wasn’t much affection in the case.” Lizzie said doubtfully.

“Perhaps not. But that would lessen Darcy’s triumph over the little gold digger, wouldn’t it?”

Lizzie gave Richard what she hoped was an enigmatic smile and changed the subject. The sky was darkening and Rosings was in sight now. Lizzie wanted nothing more than to sink into the huge clawfoot bathtub and think about what she’d heard. One thing she certainly knew: she would not be attending dinner tonight, nor would she ever look upon that bastard Will Darcy’s face again.

When she got into her room, Lizzie flopped down into a chair and sat staring at the wall for a bit. Which was it? Charlie didn’t care about Jane? Or Charlie had been persuaded not to care for Jane? He forgot about her as soon as she wasn’t in front of him? Or Darcy had convinced him that Jane was a conniving opportunist? Darkness had fallen completely over her windows, and Lizzie picked up her phone to text Charlotte. _Char, I’m not feeling well -- I’ve got the start of an awful headache. Could you let Lady Catherine know that I’m going to stay in my room and try to recover?_

Lizzie stripped off her clothes and filled the tub with hot water. She found a jar of lavender bath salts in a drawer and scattered a fistful of them into the water, watching it turn pale violet. She caught a glance of herself in the mirror as she walked to the vanity to grab her soap and a flannel. Lizzie stopped and regarded herself. She looked wild and fierce, like she could burn the place to the ground. She took a breath and got into the water. There was always tomorrow. She could just get through the night and sort it out in the morning.

Anne and Will had had a productive day, and Will had even managed to get in a run. He hadn’t seen Lizzie anywhere, though he had circled the usual places. When he got back to Rosings, he looped past the library and conservatory, but Lizzie was nowhere to be found. Will was aware that this would be his last opportunity to speak to her. He needed her phone number, or something. Some reason to keep speaking to her. He would have to ask her out, despite the many good reasons not to. Will couldn’t stand the idea of not seeing her anymore after today.

Will arrived first in the lounge off the dining room where they had cocktails before heading into dinner. He paced a bit, pouring himself a whisky and looking through the dark windows into the night. Next came Anne and Richard, who also served themselves whisky. Lady Catherine came in and began inquiring loudly about Mrs. Reynolds at the firm, and when Will thought she might be retiring. The Collinses showed up a few minutes later and informed the party that Lizzie was feeling unwell, and needed to sit out dinner. “Oh, what a shame,” said Anne. “On the last night of her visit, too.”

Lady Catherine pressed the intercom and Mrs. Baker came by a few minutes later. “Mrs. Baker, will you have some dinner sent to Miss Bennet? She is unwell. Inquire what else she may need.” Mrs. Baker nodded cheerfully and was off like a shot. 

“That’s odd,” Richard said. “She seemed well when I saw her earlier. I caught her on the way back in from the fields, not an hour and a half ago.”

“She must not have been well guarded against the cold,” boomed Lady Catherine. “I take every precaution in winter, and that is why I am never ill. In addition, I maintain a strict regimen of vitamins and supplements. Collins, that reminds me, I was going to make some recommendations to you. There is an excellent pharmacy in the village below…”

Will tuned her out, and his mind started to turn. If he didn’t see her tonight, where would he possibly catch her again? He sat down next to Mrs. Collins, pretending to listen to Aunt Catherine’s advice on ginkgo biloba. Throughout dinner, he listened and nodded as the others spoke, but determined that he would go to Lizzie. When everybody stood up to return to the lounge, Will pantomimed receiving a text. “Will you excuse me? I need to step out to make an urgent call.”

“What could be so urgent, young man, that you would step away from a dinner party?” Aunt Catherine called after him, but Will held his phone up to his ear and shrugged apologetically as he hurried out of the room.

Once he was out of sight, he tucked his phone back in his pocket and took a moment to consider. Lizzie was in the guest wing, certainly, but which room? He thought it over and considered she would be in the smallest one, as a single woman and a non-family member. He went to the blue room and knocked on the door. He told himself to calm down as he waited.

Lizzie opened the door with a big smile, saying “Really, Mrs. Baker, I’m quite alright. Thank you for everything.” When she saw Will, she stopped short, and took in a breath. “Hello. Did you need something?” her tone became cool, and she looked at him through slightly narrowed eyes. Her smile had disappeared.

Will, for his part, was caught up in admiration for the sight of her. She looked adorable and sexy all at once -- a combination he’d never personally experienced before. He could smell lavender radiating from her. Her cheeks were pink, probably from the heat of the bath or shower. Wet tendrils of hair rested on her shoulders and collarbone, dampening the old t-shirt she wore. He could see she wore no bra and forced his eyes to keep away from her chest. Instead, Will looked down at her feet, which were clad in absurdly thick rainbow striped socks. She wore pink waffle knit pyjama pants that clung to her shapely legs and reminded Will of long underwear. He coughed, embarrassed that he had come to her in this state. She was unwell, and this was the definition of importuning someone. Lizzie suddenly seemed aware of her appearance, and turned to the chair farthest from the door to grab a long cardigan. She wrapped it around herself, hugging her arms to her chest. She gave him a yes-what-is-it look, and when he didn’t respond, she sank down into the chair, waiting.

Will took a breath and closed her door behind him. The fireplace was lit, and the sound of wood cracking and popping seemed thunderous to him. A tray of food that had been brought up from the kitchen was resting on the table alongside her chair. _You’re intruding, get to the point, Darcy,_ he urged himself. He paced between the fireplace and the door, and stopped himself when he caught the bewildered look on Lizzie’s face. He took a breath and began.

“It’s useless,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve tried to tell myself that you and I could never work, that there’s no way we make sense as a couple, but I can’t keep fighting my feelings. Against all reason, I’m really into you, Elizabeth.”

Lizzie’s cheeks went darker pink, and she felt her mouth drop open, though she did not speak. Will assumed that this meant she felt it, too, and kept going. “That time we spent together at Netherfield, I just, I couldn’t help but admire you. You’re lovely. You’re intriguing. And here, listening to you work with Anne, the way you win over any crowd. I know we’re very different, that there are huge disparities in our situations in life. I’m perfectly aware that you didn’t grow up with the kind of money and status I did, and that in being together, I’d be going against what my family expects of me. I don’t even know where we’d live -- you’re clearly a country girl, and I’m settled in London, and couldn’t leave it. I couldn’t walk away from the firm. You’d have to come to London. But I can’t help it. I’m falling in love with you.”

Lizzie was staring down at the floor, and had been busy absorbing Will’s absurd speech. She didn’t notice that he had moved close to her. When she looked up, she saw he had bent at the waist and his handsome face was coming close to hers. Suddenly his mouth was upon hers. Before she could push him away, Lizzie felt herself involuntarily respond to him. His lips were soft and he moved slowly, his fingers underneath her chin, lifting her face to his. Lizzie felt his lips probing hers with gentle insistence. Her eyes flared, and she put her hands up to his shoulders and pushed him away. He smiled down at her, but it turned to a frown as he saw her facial expression. Lizzie could only assume she looked how she felt, which was furious.

Will took a step back, and Lizzie stood up, moving behind the chair. She took a deep breath once more, and paused for a beat to collect her thoughts. “No, thank you. I don’t return your feelings.” 

Will looked surprised, and then angry. Although he felt like howling, he got the better of himself and merely said, “And that’s the only thing you’re going to say to me, after all that? I can see it in your face. There’s something you’re not saying.”

Lizzie’s beautiful eyes blazed at him. “Perhaps what I really think of you is best left unsaid.”

“No,” he insisted, his voice heated as he folded his arms across his chest. “Go ahead. I humiliated myself by pouring my guts out to you. Knock yourself out, Miss Bennet. What’s so offensive about me?”

“The better question might be what’s so horribly offensive about me that you like me despite my myriad flaws? Why would you come here and tell me you like me against all reason, against your very character?” She crossed her arms now.

Will’s face became red. “You’re very attractive. It’s natural that I would be drawn to you.”

“Attraction certainly isn’t enough. You know _nothing_ about me, and you know _nothing_ of my heart. So the good news is that all of the horrible things about me that have prevented you from making a move until today should help you move on quickly. I’m curious, though, how you can bear to override the degradation of my very existence, but you couldn’t allow Charlie to do the same with Jane.”

How did she know? _Richard,_ Will thought to himself grimly. But he only shook his head and looked at her, almost smirking, and Lizzie felt a new wave of rage inside her chest. “You don’t even have the decency to look guilty about it, do you?”

“Why should I look guilty? I did everything within my power to separate your sister and Charlie. I did him a kindness. It’s just a shame I couldn’t have done the same thing for myself. It didn’t seem to me that Jane had terribly strong feelings for Charlie. He’s better off.” 

Lizzie’s voice sounded low and dangerous. “Are you implying that Jane is a gold digger?”

“Not necessarily. It just didn’t seem to me that her affection equaled Charlie’s. Her indifference to his enthusiasm could have been overcome, if she wanted to make an advantageous marriage.” He sounded so logical and sure of himself that Lizzie almost could have laughed. Almost.

“What on earth do you know about Jane’s feelings? How could you begin to presume what she feels for Charlie?” Lizzie was gasping at this point. Will stayed silent in the face of her indignation, and Lizzie’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “Of course,” she said to herself. “What else should I have expected from you? It makes perfect sense that a man who could fire somebody for contradicting him would feel no compunction about ruining the happiness of two people falling in love.”

“What, do you mean _Wickham?_ ” Will’s face lost its incredulous look and flipped right back to outrage. “You seem to be pretty wrapped up in his well-being.”

“Who could know his story and _not_ be interested?”

“His story,” Will spat out, turning toward the door. “Yeah, he’s quite a story-teller. So, what? You couldn’t possibly take an interest in me because I’m an arrogant prick who ruins people’s lives for the hell of it? That’s who you think I am?” He stopped in his tracks and turned back around to face her. “You kissed me back, though. Elizabeth. Maybe you could have overlooked my obviously sociopathic ways if I’d lied to you, and told you liking you has been easy for me. If I’d flattered you, like some wanker you’d meet in a pub somewhere, feeding you lines? But lying disgusts me. Do you expect me to be excited that the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with is bringing so little to the table?”

Lizzie reeled back in shock at his words, but came out from behind the chair to stand right in Will’s face. “Can you _hear_ yourself, Darcy?” He only looked down at her, impassive.

Lizzie wanted nothing more than for him to leave the room, for this conversation to be over, so she drew on every reserve of calmness and clarity she could summon. “You may have been raised with great wealth and privilege, moving in an echelon of society to which I’ve had little exposure, for whatever _that’s_ worth,” she gestured around the room to indicate all of Rosings, and waved in the direction of the dining room. “It hasn’t done you much good though, _Sir,_ because you are the least gentleman-like man I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter. This has nothing to do with flattery and everything to do with the fact that this is _not_ how you speak to a person you like or respect.”

Will started at her words, but remained quiet. Lizzie continued, “From nearly the first moment we met, I’ve had a front row seat to your displays of pride, arrogance, and disregard for the feelings of others. I hadn’t known you a week before determining that you are the last man I could ever be with.” Lizzie walked to the door and opened it for him, gesturing for him to go. Her face was burning, and she refused to make eye contact with Will as he walked through.

He stepped out into the hallway, and felt the whoosh of air as the door closed behind him. She did not slam it, but he was pained to hear the lock click behind him, as though she was afraid of him, and what he might do. He took a few uncertain steps down the hall and caught sight of himself in an enormous, gaudy gilt-edged mirror. He barely recognized the face that looked back at him. He looked like a wild animal. 

Will thought back through the worst moments in his life, and felt his chest start to ache. He knew this night was easily in the top three.


	11. Retreat

Lizzie had spent a restless, tear-stained night in the cozy room at Rosings. While she only wanted to be gone, back at Longbourn, or on Jane’s couch in London, the idea of leaving her room and facing anybody but Charlotte was daunting. She was sure she only got a few hours of sleep in total. She’d spent most of the night staring at the dying fire, replaying the bizarre scene between herself and Will Darcy, committing what they’d both said to memory. She repeated his words to herself all night: “I’m falling in love with you”, which was inevitably followed by “Do you expect me to be excited that the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with is bringing so little to the table?” That was the line that repeatedly caused her to tear up. She had apparently failed at a contest in which she wasn’t even aware she had been participating, and his rejection of her very selfhood stung. If so much about her was wrong to him, then what had even actually attracted him in the first place? 

Lizzie’s mind also continued to loop back to the kiss. For perhaps a total of ten seconds, she’d allowed herself to kiss him back before her body and her brain caught up with each other. Every time she thought of it, she touched her fingers to her lips, remembering the buzz of electricity between them. She admitted to herself that she found Will Darcy attractive. Each time she acknowledged that truth, every single argument against him -- pride, arrogance, and now unkindness, after the way he’d spoken to her -- came rushing back into the forefront of her thoughts. The unsettled feelings and hurt thoughts spun on a Möbius strip in her mind. She had to get the hell away from Rosings. It was half seven, and surely that wasn’t too early to begin her escape. She texted Charlotte and pressed the intercom for Mrs. Baker.

Mrs. Baker and Charlotte both came through. Lady Catherine was still asleep, and likely nobody else would come down to breakfast until 8:30. Both women could see that Lizzie looked miserably ill, although they worried about her driving back to Meryton in such a state. “I’m sorry, ladies. I just need to be in my own bed. I know you understand,” Lizzie insisted, and Mrs. Baker got started on getting her car brought around and having her things taken downstairs. “Just set your bag in the hallway outside the door when you’re ready, and we’ll tuck it in the boot for you, dear," Mrs. Baker instructed her. 

Charlotte helped Lizzie pack up. She could see that it wasn’t just illness, if it was even illness at all. Lizzie seemed genuinely distressed. Once they’d gathered all her possessions into her bag, Charlotte moved to hug her, and Lizzie forced herself not to cry. “Tell the others I’m sorry I had to leave so abruptly, would you, Char? I really liked meeting Richard and Anne. And even Lady Catherine isn’t so bad. I see why you love the land, too. It’s beautiful. I know you’ll be happy here.”

“Oh, Liz. Thank you. Thanks for being here. And I love what you’ve drawn for us. You’ll be back in spring to start work on it?” A new idea had just occurred to Charlotte. Lizzie had very carefully kept Will Darcy’s name out of things. What had happened between them? Charlotte had been watching Will’s behavior toward Lizzie all week, and had started to suspect him of feelings for her good friend.

Lizzie had pushed back the tears that had started to prick at her eyes again. “I’ll be back, yes. As soon as Anne is ready for me, probably April.” Lizzie and Charlotte separated, and Lizzie gave her friend’s hands a little squeeze. “Alright, then. I need to brush my teeth and get dressed. I’m desperate for my own bed.”

Charlotte squeezed back and simply said, “Okay. Off you with you, then.” She left the room and Lizzie stepped back into the bathroom to tidy herself up and change. Her face looked haggard, and she smiled to herself grimly. _You’re almost on your way, Elizabeth, just a few more steps until you’re in the car,_ she told herself, and decided she’d go to Jane’s place to spend the night.

Jane was out for the morning helping to stage a townhouse for photos, and told Lizzie to go on in and make herself at home, as usual. Lizzie found a place to park her car and hauled her bag up to Jane’s top floor flat. London was freezing, but Jane’s home was cozy and full of winter sun that streamed in through the skylights and bounced off the cream-coloured walls. The rooms were full of plants, and art that Jane had been slowly collecting over the years, and Lizzie felt that happy little internal shudder of recognition: _Jane’s place. Safe._ Lizzie could smell the coffee Jane had brewed that morning and realized she was ravenous, having refused Mrs. Baker’s offer of a little packed breakfast bag. She started another pot of coffee and rustled up some bread and peanut butter -- Lizzie and Jane were the only ones in the family beside Mrs. Bennet who liked the stuff. Once she’d had a little breakfast, Lizzie realized she’d never charged her phone overnight. She reached in the side pocket for the cord and her hand hit a piece of paper.

She pulled out the charger along with an envelope. She plugged in her phone and sank down on the couch with her mug of coffee, pulling a knitted blanket around her shoulders. The front of the envelope had her name written across in tidy block letters, perfectly straight, in bold decisive black strokes. She pulled the contents out. It was a few sheets graph paper with the header of Darcy & deBourgh Architects, covered in the same handwriting. Only one person who worked at Darcy & deBourgh would write her a letter, and her stomach sank at the thought of what might fill the pages. 

_Elizabeth --_

_Let me put your mind at ease right away: this letter doesn’t contain any of the sentiments you found so repulsive last night. I don’t wish to cause you any further pain, or to dwell on my attraction to you. In fact, I would leave you in peace to forget last night, as I myself will try to do, but I feel I need to clear up a few things. I need you to know the truth._

_Last night there were two things you charged me with: splitting up your sister and Charlie Bingley, regardless of the feelings of either. The other accusation was much more serious in my opinion. You believe that in defiance of ethics or decency, I willfully and without cause ruined George Wickham’s career and professional reputation. You seemed equally angry and certain about my conduct in both cases. Your claim about Wickham is so inaccurate and harmful to my personal sense of integrity, and clearly the relationship between Charlie and Jane is so harmful to your sense of what is morally correct, that I feel I need to defend myself on both counts. Again, I don’t wish to cause you any further pain, and I’m sorry if what I wind up revealing hurts you. That’s the end of any apology, though. You deserve the truth._

_Charlie Bingley is always in love. It’s a well-known joke amongst our circle. I’ve seen him in and out of love dozens of times since I met him at Cambridge. Until seeing him with your sister at Netherfield, however, I had never seen him in what I would call real love. He admired your sister a great deal, and seemed completely besotted with her. It seemed to me that she did not return his affection in the same way. That she liked him and enjoyed his company was clear enough, but Jane did not seem to be in love at the same level as Charlie was with her._

_The fact that Charlie had purchased Netherfield under your sister’s guidance, and was so entwined with the choices he was making made both myself and Charlie’s sisters nervous. When I heard Charlie speaking about his immediate intentions toward Jane, and how irrevocably serious he was about her, I thought it was wise to introduce some distance. He was speaking about proposing marriage. I pointed out to him that if it was a good idea now, it would be a good idea in 6 months, and that he ought to give Jane time to catch up to him, to not scare her off. You implied that I was wrong about Jane’s regard for Charlie. Obviously your knowledge of your sister trumps my impartial observation of her. I didn’t notice anything that looked like love on her part. I get the sense that they have not been in touch since he left London for Asia in October, which seems to me to prove my point: it could not be terribly serious if they haven’t renewed their relationship. It’s done, and is done for the best._

_Now, regarding George Wickham. His history and mine are so tangled together that I can only make you understand by telling you everything about our connection. I don’t know the particulars of what he has accused me, but for my part, I can summon more than one witness to verify my version of events. I met George Wickham when we were children. He grew up in Lambton, the small village connected to Pemberley. His father was a good man, and was close to my own excellent parents. For many years, Mr. Wickham Sr. was the manager of Pemberley estate. My family has long been based primarily in London, but Pemberley is our heritage. It was once a great estate containing thousands of acres of good farmland and forest. Over the years, my family has donated much of the land to conservation efforts, but the house and the gardens still require a great deal of management. This was George’s father’s role, and the whole family had a great deal of respect for him._

_My Dad had always been fond of George, and he and I were friends growing up, and later at school. My father paid for his tuition over the years as a benefit to Mr. Wickham. He and Mrs. Wickham were divorced, and it was always a struggle for him to keep up with George and work. I never knew where Mrs. Wickham had gone off to, but George rarely spoke of her. George was a great favorite with my parents, and my Dad always declared his intention to give him as good an education as possible. Whenever we were home at Pemberley, George tended to be with us, and he often came down to London with my family. Of course at school, we roomed together until university, when our paths parted. I went to Cambridge, but George’s marks didn’t qualify him there._

_George’s manners and behavior have always been engaging, but as we grew older, it was clear to me that there was a divide in his actions and his true character. This is something my parents couldn’t really have known. To me he was a peer, and to my parents he was an unofficial godson who was careful to keep the more avaricious and reckless parts of himself hidden from my parents._

_Fairly early on in our young adulthood, I had the opportunity to see things my parents couldn’t, in George’s more unguarded moments. You can’t keep up a facade 100% of the time. There was drinking, there were drugs, there were girls. There was, unfortunately, some very bad treatment of those girls. George always managed to get out of it. For a long time, I admit that my childhood relationship with him is the reason I often would up helping him out of scrapes. I was embarrassed by the idea of my parents learning what George was really like. When University came, George and I parted ways, and it was a relief. I was no longer his keeper. Mr. Wickham Sr. passed away in our third year. My parents continued to support him, but now George had his father’s bequest of £75,000. My father encouraged him to invest it, but that is certainly not what happened, though George did tell my father those were his plans. Then George went dark. We heard nothing from him for the next two years. I can only assume he spent that time enjoying those 75,000 pounds, because when we heard from him next, it was to ask for a job at the firm._

_Darcy & deBourgh has been in business since the late 1940s, and was solidly in my father’s control until my parents’ sudden death in a car wreck four years ago. The firm was begun by my grandfather after he came back from fighting in World War II, with his long time friend Edward deBourgh, and the families have long been entwined. In fact, Lady Catherine was once Cathy Fitzwilliam until she married Edward’s son Lewis. My mother met my father in the seventies when she was a young designer brought in on a project, and stayed on with the firm permanently. I couldn’t wait to be an architect when I grew up. I told you once that the firm is the work of many generations, and that work is very important to my family. George Wickham often expressed excitement and appreciation for the firm over the years and did his degree in civil engineering. When he came asking for a job, my father was delighted to oblige. George explained away the missing years as time spent grieving for his deceased father and my parents accepted his story. Dad installed George in a consulting role shortly before the car wreck._

_When my parents died, I was unprepared. In every single way. I was 28 and still learning. Aunt Catherine was the other senior partner at that point, but the bulk of the work was done by my father. In addition, I became guardian to my younger sister, who was then only thirteen years old. It was a struggle to regain my equilibrium personally, and very important to me to keep the firm viable as well. I could not let it die on my watch, under my poor management. The staff and other architects who work there have become as dear to me as family, and the firm means a great deal to them, too. To say I was distracted during that time is an understatement. Nothing but the present circumstance would make me reveal what I’m about to share with you._

_My cousin Anne had been working with the firm a year longer than I had and I relied on her very heavily in the year after my father’s death. We’ve discussed how events came to be as they were many times, Anne and I. The best way I can describe it was: George Wickham needed a new “patron”. Anne became that for him. As you know, he’s very engaging, very charming. It’s always been so. He turned all his charms onto Anne, dating her, sweeping her off her feet. She was mad about him. All the while, he was turning in subpar work, and occasionally unsafe work. After the fact, Anne told me that she would correct it where she could, and try to coach him to do better. This went on for some time. One day, George made a critical error. He miscalculated some structural needs on a new building the firm was working on. Nobody else on the project caught it. There was an accident, and a builder was nearly killed. The fault was found to be with our drawings, and the lawsuit nearly did in the firm. Anne has never forgiven herself, never gotten past the guilt of what she deems her poor decisions, but we are steadily recovering from the mishap, both financially and psychologically._

_George was fired, and he was fortunate not to be implicated personally in the lawsuit. The firm’s insurance and legal team kept him out of it. Perhaps that was a mistake, but Anne and I both felt the fault was ours for the lack of appropriate oversight. After he was let go, we also discovered he had been billing false hours to the firm. This was possible because he had also deceived one of the accounting assistants, a young naive woman who also fancied herself in love with Wickham. He was sleeping with her, too. We didn't pursue legal action in the case. Perhaps we should have, but I was afraid of what he might do to Anne's professional reputation._

_I don’t know what particular story George told you, but I hope you’ll acquit me of acting improperly toward him. It’s not a surprise to me that he was able to deceive you about his history with my family — he is a practiced liar, and you have never struck me as a suspicious person. You know George Wickham. How well and how intimately, I’m not sure, but all that really matters to me in telling you this story is your safety, and the hope that you might understand my side of the story._

_I didn’t tell you any of this last night because I wasn’t sure what to reveal. Nearly losing the firm is partially my story to tell, but Anne’s part in it is private, and while she has moved past the humiliation of the situation, the way she was taken in will never not make my blood boil. I trust you and your discretion, and it was important for me to give you the whole story in as unbiased a manner as I possibly could. If it really unbiased is not for me to judge, so if it seems fantastical and your dislike of me should cause you to doubt my story, I know Anne or even Richard would be willing to corroborate it._

_I’ll only add that I wish the best for you, Lizzie, in all things._

_Yours,  
Will_


	12. The Nature of Goodness

When Lizzie opened up the letter and realized who it was from, she was certain it would not contain another declaration of love and interest. She was sure the way she’d spoken to Will the night before would have turned him off of her forever. That, however, was the only certainty Lizzie had as she began to read. She felt a renewed sense of rage at Will’s presumption about Jane’s feelings, and his interference in the natural course of a relationship he had nothing to do with. But when she got to the section about George Wickham, she felt her prejudice against anything else Will might have to say slip. As the story of George and Anne unfolded, Lizzie read so fast and eagerly she barely understood the words, so desperate was she to see what the conclusion of the history could be.

Lizzie made herself read the letter over again, slower, and with better attention. She found her feelings were becoming less clear. She and George had texted like mad in that first week they knew each other, and the details he shared of being let go from Darcy & deBourgh lined up with the timeline offered by Will. But that was the only similarity between the two men’s accounts. When Lizzie considered Anne’s part in the story, she faltered in her desire to believe Will was lying. Anne was so sweet and generous toward Lizzie. She also seemed like she was nursing an old hurt. She could never bring this up to Anne, nor to Richard.

With a sense of dread, Lizzie opened up her laptop and Googled George Wickham + Darcy & deBourgh. This led her down a rabbit hole of newspaper articles about a code not being properly met by appropriate steel supports, and a builder who’d nearly broken his neck in an accident. There were photos of Anne and Will looking grim and horrified in court, and a photo of George Wickham on the day of his deposition. He looked serious and handsome, but now all Lizzie could see was falsehood in his face. She slammed the laptop shut after an hour, and got up to pace about Jane’s flat.

Lizzie felt sick to her stomach and she hugged her arms to her belly as she walked the floor. She pulled her phone off the charger and looked up the texts between herself and George. Lizzie finally admitted the truth to herself, didn't try to push it down behind anything else: she had wanted to bash Will for his rejection of her at the Harvest Festival. George had been a willing participant in that bashing. In fact, he must have been delighted to meet a loudmouth such as herself who shared a common enemy. Lizzie thought back to the words she’d overheard Charlie saying to Will at the Harvest Festival: _I know you get shy._ Lizzie had been so convinced that Will was an arrogant arsehole that she’d never stopped to consider that he might have been more shy than anything. Granted, shy and rude. Still, she began to regret what she now knew was coldness toward him in those moments when he’d been trying to have a conversation with her. Looking back now, Lizzie could be honest with herself: she was trying to reject him right back. She had had no idea he was falling in love with her and if you’d given her a thousand years, that’s not what she would have come up with as the driving force behind his behavior.

When Lizzie remembered his anger and nasty words at her rejection of his advances, she felt more clear-sighted. Will might have liked something about her, but not enough to respect who she was deep down inside. 

But now, honestly, who was she? She’d always prided herself on her discernment of character in others, her wit, and ability to speak to anyone and everyone without it costing her much. Being around others came so easily to her. She could turn conversation on and off like a faucet, her father had once remarked. Looking back at her behavior with George and Will, she became absolutely ashamed of herself. 

When it came to Jane and Charlie, nothing Will could say would excuse his interference in Lizzie’s eyes. But when she started to think about what Jane might have done if Charlie showed up with a ring, well. That might have scared Jane. That was true. And when she considered how mild-mannered Jane was around people who didn’t know her well, that Will might have thought it meant Jane didn’t feel the same way as Charlie didn’t seem like such a leap. She could now see where Will was coming from, in a sense. He wanted to protect his friend. And that friend had essentially abandoned Jane, even though he was back in London, within 5 kilometres of her. Lizzie couldn’t agree with Will’s methods. But at least she no longer thought he was a psychopath. _I wish the best for you,_ Lizzie, _in all things._

Lizzie heard the front door open, and Jane stepped through, calling hello, and carrying a tote of groceries. Lizzie stuffed the letter back into the pocket of her bag and took a deep breath, trying to plaster on a smile of greeting. What on earth to even say to Jane?

Will made his way back up to Pemberley after breakfast at Rosings, claiming a need to pick up Georgiana from a friend’s house and get her back home for the rest of the winter break. This was only partially true. Georgie had driven herself and would be back at Pemberley in two days, but Will did need to head back home to meet her. He said his good-byes to the Collinses, kissed Aunt Catherine’s cheek, and hugged Anne and Richard. His cousins had given him first quizzical then pitying looks when Charlotte announced that Lizzie drove home that morning, that she was still feeling poorly. Will had not returned their gazes. He’d spent the whole night composing his letter to Elizabeth. He had been planning to slide it under her door then leave Rosings before he had to see her. She had beaten him to it. Quietly making his way down the hall to her door, Will watched Lizzie stick her bag out in the hallway to be picked up and taken downstairs. She was making her escape. He’d quickly walked up to her bag and stuck the envelope in the side pocket, and jogged away.

He had been furious after he left her room last night. Her rejection had been so shockingly complete, and frankly, it was a new feeling to him. He’d never once asked a woman out and heard the word no. It wasn’t that he couldn’t take no for an answer. It was that the no had come with a defense of the one person in the world Will hated. It had made him irrationally angry. He turned the conversation over in his mind all night, unable to sleep, grimacing as he remembered her beautiful, furious face as she dismissed him from the room, his heart hurting as he remembered the sound of the lock turning. Was she afraid of him? Did she actually think Will was a monster? _You are the least gentleman-like man I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter...This is_ not _how you speak to a person you like or respect._

He had lunged out of bed as he repeated her words to himself for at least the dozenth time. Seizing a pad of graph paper, he started trying to explain himself when it came to her accusations about Charlie, Jane, and Wickham. At the very least he could try and show Lizzie who he really was. All on his drive back to Derbyshire, he prayed that she would read it and not just throw it into the bin. He had no hope of her thinking better of him, but he hoped she’d try and understand him with that letter.

He got home to Pemberley and pulled his Benz into the garage around back, his tyres making fresh tracks in the dusting of snow that had just fallen. The house was fairly empty at this time of the year, but the caretakers, a married couple who’d worked with the Darcys for nearly two decades now, seemed to be cozy in their section of the house. Will could see the lights blazing and their Christmas tree through the window. Mr. and Mrs. Bell were in their early sixties now, and Will guessed that at least one or two of their grandchildren were staying for the holidays. Will had called Mrs. Bell and let her know he was back for one more week, and could she pick up groceries for him and Georgie. Before he’d left Rosings, Anne had told him not to worry, that she’d handle anything that came up with the firm, just take the rest of the holiday, be with Georgie. Will wanted to, but right now, work felt like the only thing that could save him. Still, for Anne and Georgie, he’d try. 

He walked in through the kitchen and saw a scratch made cake under a cloche. Will smiled at Mrs. Bell’s kindness — it was his favorite, Madeira Cake. He walked into the boot room and opened his bag to begin his laundry. His parents had renovated the family’s residential wing shortly before the car wreck, and it occasionally pained Will that his mother never got to see how well her designs had worked out for him and Georgie. The large kitchen was modern and broken into smaller zones, adapted from its original life as a huge workspace for dozens of servants. The boot room had loads of cupboards full of sport equipment as well the laundry and cleaning supplies. And the rest of the wing was full of updates that paid tribute to Pemberley’s history while making it feel like a real home where one might actually raise a family, not a lifeless museum. When they opened up the house for visitors in summer and had temporary staff helping run the place, it was critical to have a family retreat. Will sighed as he thought of his Mum’s careful plans to create that for her small family. She had succeeded. Will and Georgie loved it there.

Will cut himself a slice of cake and carried it up to his room, flipping on lights as he went to make things feel less lonely. Charlie had asked him once if it ever felt strange to live in such a large home and not use most of it and Will had answered that, honestly, no. It didn’t. Most of the other wings of the house were closed up, and there were alarm systems that kept the perimeters of the closed wings secure. The Bells did their daily rounds and kept things functioning. It was just the way things were. When Will was young, his parents would open up the entire house a couple of times a year and host enormous gatherings with friends and family coming from all over Europe, and even the states. Will had never considered doing this himself. Maybe he should, though. Everything that had happened with Lizzie Bennet helped him realize: he was lonely.

He stood at a window in his room, looking out of Pemberley’s vast lawn coated in snow, thinking about friends. Charlie. He’d felt perfectly justified in his interference with Charlie’s relationship earlier this year, but Lizzie had given him pause. She insisted Jane had strong feelings for Charlie, too. What if he’d just stayed out of it? He took a bite out of his cake slice and stared unseeingly through the window. 

_This is not how you speak to a person you like or respect._

Did he not respect Charlie enough to allow him to make his own decisions? Will told Lizzie he hated lying, but he _had_ lied to Charlie. He cloaked his logic in rationalizations and justifications, but he had lied. The cake felt like sawdust in his mouth and he set it down on the wide window ledge.

Lizzie Bennet. He loved her pert conversation and the moments of insight into her character he’d been able to capture and keep. Will thought of her all the time, her lovely face, her expressive eyes. Her gorgeous, energetic body. He loved her fire and passion, and imagined what she’d be like in bed. He thought about how badly he had wanted her. Still wanted her, really. He turned away from the window and looked about his large suite. Will had imagined taking Lizzie in his bed nearly every day since he’d met her. He had not dreamt that if he’d worked up the courage to ask her she would have said no.

Would Lizzie have said yes to being with him if he’d behaved more like a gentleman? He thought about the word, and what the word had always meant to him: honourable. That was how his father had taught him to behave. Will had managed the scandal and tragedy of George Wickham’s time at Darcy & deBourgh, he’d done his best to keep Pemberley alive, he’d given his energy to raising Georgiana. But he had not behaved correctly toward Lizzie Bennet. Will started to think about the word “gentleman” might mean to her: courteousness, kindness. She was right. He knew nothing of her heart, only that he had approached it wrongly, had no idea how to please a woman worthy of being pleased. A bad beginning and a worse end. 

Lizzie had determined that she needed to tell Jane what had happened between herself and Will Darcy, but she couldn’t decide how much of the letter to reveal. The story of Wickham was discoverable by anybody with an Internet browser, but the story of how he’d been able to nearly destroy Darcy & deBourgh from the inside out was not. Charlie Bingley’s defection was something Jane had been dealing with everyday, but the fact that Will had anything to do with it was complicated. It’s true that Will did what he could to separate the couple, but it was Charlie who had ultimately rejected Jane. Would knowing that the Asia trip had been a manufactured lie and that Will had “intervened” in Charlie’s perception of their relationship do Jane any good as she was trying to get over things? These were just the highlights of the monologue racing through Lizzie’s head as she helped Jane unpack groceries, and then make some lunch, and then sit down on the sofa with tea. 

After telling Jane a bit about the working trip, and the complete and total weirdness of Rosings and the Twelfth Night party (which seemed like it had happened a hundred years ago), Lizzie took a deep breath. She decided just to begin with the story of Will’s declaration of interest. 

“Jane, do you think Will Darcy is a good person?” Lizzie held her mug of sweet, milky tea in both hands, close to her chest.

“Will Darcy?” Jane seemed surprised. “I think he is. He’s reserved, certainly. But in essentials, he seems like a good person.”

“What makes you think so? What really makes a person _good?”_

“Oh, Lord. That’s a difficult question. I suppose a good person is considerate of others, and tries hard to mend their mistakes when they realize they’ve made them. There’s more to it, I’m sure, but if you strip away everything else, I think that’s what’s left.” Jane tilted her head and looked at Lizzie. “Why do you ask? I can’t say I knew Will very well, but Charlie thought the world of him. And I know Will has a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. So many people’s happiness depends on his actions. He’s got custody of his little sister, after all. Imagine if we’d ever had to take custody of our sisters!”

Lizzie absorbed Jane’s words, and Jane made no attempt to interrupt the quiet, just letting her sister think. Finally Lizzie said, “At Rosings Will told me he was falling in love with me.”

Jane’s eyes widened, and she let out a quiet and confused _“What?”_

“He came to my room last night and told me. He said he’s had feelings for me for a long time. But he also told me that he liked me against his better judgment, and that to be with me would be a disappointment to his family, that I don’t bring much to the table.” Lizzie’s eyes had started to well up. Jane took her sister’s hands in her own, and squeezed them gently. 

“He always seemed so quiet, so removed,” said Jane. “I wonder if that was a sign, his quietness around you. Looking back, I might now chalk it up to being tongue-tied.”

“I told you about what he said that night at the Harvest Festival. I just figured he didn’t like me, so...I just wanted to not like him right back. I never tried to engage him, or attract him. In fact, I wasn’t terribly nice nor did I try much with him at all. I can’t understand it.”

“I feel bad for him, in a way,” said Jane, letting out a slow breath. “Charlie said Will is shy. And he shouldn’t have said those things to you — I’m sorry he was unable to find a way to connect with you. I do think he’s a good person, but he certainly didn’t seem to be thinking clearly when he tried to speak to you about his feelings.”

Lizzie got up and looked out the window down onto the high street. You could just see the corner of it from Jane’s flat. Little flurries of snow were beginning again. “I was really offended by him. He might have said those things because his ego was bruised by my rejection. But I think it had more to do with my bringing up Wickham. That’s when things got really unpleasant.”

“What did you say about George Wickham?” 

“Oh basically, I told him I couldn’t expect somebody who’d treat Wickham so callously to treat anybody else with any respect either.”

“And…”

“And that’s when he got really angry. I think he was a little jealous that I went out with George — that doesn’t seem like much of a leap. But I think he was also upset because George lied to me about his connection with Darcy & deBourgh and I threw those lies right at Will. There’s more to the story, a lot more, but to sum it up, George did some faulty calculations, nobody at the firm caught it, and a builder nearly got killed. In fact, I get the sense that they’re lucky that’s all that happened. George was also billing false hours and, um, manipulated a few women in the firm. The lawsuits nearly did the firm in.”

Jane’s mouth hung open, “Wow...George seemed so forthright, so open! There’s no way there was any misunderstanding?”

“No, Jane, no love. I’m giving you an abbreviated version of events, but trust me when I tell you George is the bad guy, and I backed the bad guy to the good guy.” Lizzie laughed, but the sound was bitter and humourless. “George seemed so good and Will seemed so, I don’t know. Not bad, necessarily. Difficult. One man has all the goodness and the other has all the appearance of it. He was often dismissive and arrogant toward me. I couldn’t believe he said he was falling for me. _Me,_ of all people, who he barely seemed to tolerate. And I really thought I was being so smart, dismissing Will right back. I didn’t look at him, really. Not properly. I was too busy being offended by the little tiny perceived rejections.”

“You don’t...you sound like you might care for him, even after all he said,” Jane got up and stood next to Lizzie. They looked out the window together, and Jane looped an arm around Lizzie’s waist.

“I don’t know that I care for him. I just feel my wrongness about George. It’s just personally humiliating. I was interested in George, but after that thing with Meghan King I already knew he wasn’t that great of a guy. For me to defend him in any way to Will was absurd, I just didn’t know how absurd, and I’m embarrassed. I just can’t stand the idea that Will Darcy is out there and thinking I’m foolish. He may have been attracted to me, and who even knows why, but I bet you he’s over it now!”

Jane squeezed Lizzie’s waist with one quick, sharp sobering pull. “Lizzie, you are a wonderful, smart, lovely person. You’re so caring towards those you love, so brave in their defense. It makes perfect sense that Will thought well of you, and wanted to be with you.” Lizzie didn’t say anything, and Jane continued. “You feel ashamed right now because you spoke without knowing the full story, or really looking to see the truth about who Will was. And I am sure you won’t do that again, right?”

“What, be so judgmental? I’ll try not to. All I wanted to do was get back to London to see you, to be comforted by you, and have you tell me I’m not as ridiculous as I feel right now!”

“Everything will be okay, Lizzie Lou, it really will,” Jane said, and she pulled Lizzie in for a hug. “Look, we have all night. What should we do? Do you want to go out?

“Nah…”

“Do you want to...watch _Drag Race_ and order takeaway?!” Jane gave Lizzie an impish smile. 

“YES,” said Lizzie, laughing at Jane, and letting herself be pulled away from the window and her troubled thoughts. Lizzie couldn’t bring herself to say anything she’d learned about Charlie’s defection, for no matter who started it, Charlie had certainly finished it by not coming back to Jane. 

A couple of days later, Georgiana Darcy drove into Pemberley’s garage, nearly bouncing with excitement to see Will again. Richard had texted her after the Twelfth Night party and told her cryptically, _I think your brother might fancy one of Aunt Catherine’s house guests...Anne and I are going to try and make sure he asks her out!_ But then she’d heard nothing more, and had been too busy with her friends to inquire further. 

On her drive back home, however, Georgiana had started to think about Will’s love life. She knew he dated, because Anne was always making digs about his “flavour of the month”. Will had never introduced her to any of these women, nor did he talk much about them. What was like when he actually _fancied_ somebody? He’d been her steady rock since Mum and Dad had died. He deserved some happiness.

Georgie could barely remember their relationship before the loss of their parents. She remembered bits and pieces, of course, but there was such a gap in their ages. She knew Mum had had a difficult time having children, and Georgie had been the definition of a surprise baby to her parents. Will turned 15 a few months after she was born. He’d almost been like a distant, kindly uncle to her as she was growing up. She remembered after the car wreck how Will had come to her at school, finding her in the headmistress’ office, stricken and stunned. He’d been 28 years old at the time, and right away, it’s as though he turned into an instant dad. When he was shown into the office, Georgie’s face crumpled at the sight of him, and he raced to her, enfolding her in his long arms, letting her ugly cry against his suit. He’d swayed with her until she was calm again, and simply said, “I’m here, darling. I’ll always be here.” And the two of them had been a team since then, plain and simple. A new life had started, whether they were ready or not.

The idea that Will might truly like a woman made Georgie nervous, but mostly excited. There wasn’t a better man on the planet than her brother. All she was really worried about was whether or not the woman was good enough for him, deserving enough.

She gathered her things from the boot and dropped them inside the kitchen door. “Will!” She hollered. “I’m home! Where are you?” She only heard silence. Georgie made her way through the kitchen and sitting rooms. She went up the stairs, but his office was empty, as was the library. Georgie thought maybe he’d gone out for a run, but as she made her way to the second floor, she saw his bedroom door was open. Entering softly, she saw Will asleep in the stuffed armchair by the window. He looked uncomfortable and, frankly, not all that great — his face was troubled and scrunched as he slept. He hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. Georgie grabbed a blanket from his bed and moved to cover him as quietly as she could. As the fabric touched him, Will startled awake, and looked at Georgie with wild eyes, relaxing when he realized where he was and that it was his sister in front of him. Georgie cringed and whispered, “Sorry, I was trying not to wake you. Go back to sleep. Or better, go to the bed. Do you feel sick?”

Will rubbed his eyes, “No, no. I’m just fine. I slept poorly, and I guess I just dozed off. I was trying to read.” He moved and pulled out a book from between the side of his body and the arm of the chair, where it had fallen.

“Rumi?” Georgie asked. “That isn’t a book about World War II,” she said teasing him. “I can’t believe you’d pick it up.”

“I know. Hence the falling asleep, I guess,” Will smiled ruefully, and stood up and gave his little sister a quick squeeze. “How are you, Georgie-Girl? How was Veronica’s house?”

“Oh, fine. Her older brother was home. He’s still obnoxious. And her parents had a full house of friends. It was nice to be around so much cozy noise.” She plopped down on the bench at the foot of his bed. 

“How much older is her brother?” Will asked. 

“Come on, Will. Maybe three years? Don’t worry. He’d never look at the likes of me,” Georgie laughed. “He was always on his phone, texting some girl. More like a few girls, if you ask me.”

Will smiled and moved toward the door. “It’s nearly tea time. Come help rustle up some sandwiches.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be along in a moment.” Georgie said, and stood up herself. Only instead of following Will, she grabbed the Rumi book and opened to a page he’d bookmarked. She quickly scanned a poem called “Form is Ecstatic”. There was a post-it on the page in Will’s self-assured block lettering, and he’d copied out a snippet of a line from the poem: Soul, intelligence, the secret worlds. Then he’d written _ELIZABETH._ Georgie didn’t pretend to understand the poem after just a quick scan. But Elizabeth. Now that was worth examining. That she understood instantly.

Georgie followed Will downstairs toward the kitchen. He moved slowly as he cut the sandwiches, nodded as she told stories about Veronica and her family. A few times she’d had to repeat questions for him, and he gave vague answers about his time at Aunt Catherine’s. Georgie sighed as she ate her slice of Mrs. Bell’s amazing Madeira cake and finally said, “Alright, enough, Wills. This is getting tragic.” Will looked up at her use of their mother’s nickname for him, and her aggrieved sigh. “Who is Elizabeth?

“How do you know about her?” Will looked mystified.

Georgie held up the post-it note. 

“Come on, Georgie,” he groaned. “That’s private.”

“No, you come on. You’re not yourself. Richard texted me that you met some girl at Aunt Catherine’s, that you fancied her.”

“Richard’s an idiot. He shouldn’t be telling you stuff like that.”

“So you did meet somebody.”

“It’s not a big deal. I already knew her, she just happened to be at Aunt Catherine’s. She’s there collaborating with Anne on a project. Or she was. She was there the whole week.”

“Is that why you stayed longer? You never stay at Rosings for more than a couple of days if you can help it.”

Will looked at the ceiling and let out a long drawn out breath. His little Georgie-Girl. He was almost positive she would grow up to be a solicitor. She never stopped digging down, but it never felt invasive. You just wound up telling Georgie things. He decided to reveal some of what had happened. Will took a sip of his tea and leaned back in his chair, finished with his plate. He explained that he had met this “Elizabeth” a few months ago. He didn’t make a good first impression. In fact, he was pretty sure she overheard him saying something fairly shitty about her.

Georgie’s jaw dropped open. “What could you have said about her? You didn’t even know her!”

“No,” he said quietly. “I didn’t.” He got up and went over to the refrigerator and pulled out a can of beer. He sat back down in his seat and pulled the tab open. Georgie looked at him with one eyebrow raised. “Look. I was in a horrible mood. And Charlie dragged me to a party that I didn’t want to go to. And, I don’t know. You know I’m shit at talking to new people. I said something...dismissive. A little worse than dismissive, really. I was just trying to get Charlie to leave me alone. I didn’t really mean what I said. She overheard me, and I guess right from the outset she thought I was an arse. We just never got off on the right foot.” Will took a long drink of his beer and finally met Georgie’s eyes. He couldn’t quite make out the expression on her face.

“Hmm. And you saw her again at Aunt Catherine’s?”

“Yeah. I tried asking her out at the end of the week. I mean, I told her that I really liked her, and wanted to spend more time with her. And it didn’t go great.”

“Why not? Was she mean to you when she said no?”

Will thought for a moment. “No. She was very polite. She said she didn’t return my feelings. But it got worse.”

“Who made it worse?” Georgie’s eyes were slightly narrowed.

Will paused for a few seconds.“I did. I goaded her into saying why. I wouldn’t say that I didn’t want to take no for an answer. But I think that’s how I might have made her feel.”

“ _Will._ That’s really messed up.”

“I know. We had a fight. And I said some things I really regret.”

“Like?”

“Come on, Georgie. You don’t need to know.”

“You obviously feel very badly, Will. But you obviously also were very affected by her.” Georgie waved the post-it note around, and Will nabbed it from her.

“I said that on paper she and I didn’t make sense, that our family has expectations of me, and the kind of woman I ought to marry.” Will’s eyes were downcast, and he heard Georgie gasp. 

“What expectations do you think any of us has about who you’ll marry?” Georgie’s voice didn’t sound angry or disappointed, just slightly stunned.

“I don’t know. I guess somebody with money, somebody who’s been around money her whole life, who’s not impressed by it.”

“Did Elizabeth seem impressed with your money? Is she poor or something?”

“No, she works, her family is well enough off. Let’s just say they’re solidly middle class. And I don’t think she was impressed with the family money. If she was, I certainly gave her an opening.” Will finally looked up at his sister. “In fact, she didn’t seem interested in me at all, in retrospect. We fought about a couple of other things that night. She was probably right about one of them, and was definitely wrong about the other. I wrote her a letter explaining my side of things.”

Georgie brightened. “Do you think that will fix things? Might you still go out with her?”

“No, darling, I don’t think so. I believe she thinks the worst of me. She certainly saw a very bad side of me.” Will chuckled to himself. “Honestly, I like her all the better for it. She handed me my arse in no uncertain terms. I didn’t do her justice. I was attracted to her before — she’s clever and beautiful, and talented. But I didn’t really appreciate her properly. I didn’t see how brave and ferocious she can be. I think right now all I can do is let my apology be, and hope she at least thinks a little better of me. I don’t know that we’ll ever meet again. If we ever do, I’ll try to do better, how’s that?”

“I hope that’s not the end of things,” said Georgie. “I’ve never seen you like this before. I think that’s significant.” Will shrugged, and Georgie continued. “I also think you might want to rethink your impression of what this family expects from you. You keep me going, you keep Anne going. All any of us want is for you to find somebody who will love you for the great person you really are, who can keep you going. And I guess overlook it when you act like a git.”

Will sat quietly and took in her words. Georgie picked up his plate and gave him a little peck on the cheek, heaving a melodramatic sigh that Will finally cracked a smile at.

Jane let Lizzie pick the cuisine that night, so Chinese food it was — Lizzie’s favourite takeaway. As Lizzie ran back up the stairs with the piping hot bag, she realized that she was finally starting to forget the last 24 hours. Jane had set out their plates on the coffee table, and already had some episodes of _Drag Race_ queued up. Lizzie set the bag on the table and began unpacking the cartons while Jane poured generous glasses of a cold Pinot Grigio. The sisters both plopped down on the couch and began serving themselves their favorites: Hot and Sour Prawn Soup for Jane and Lizzie spooned out some Lemon Chicken. Jane pressed play and they settled in. After a few spoonfuls of soup, Jane quickly set her bowl down and said, “Oh.”

“Hmm?” Lizzie said, still watching RuPaul glide across the screen in a stunning gold outfit. 

“I’m going to be sick,” she said, already moving toward the bathroom.

Lizzie set her plate down as the sounds of Jane retching sounded from the bathroom. Lizzie picked up Jane’s bowl of soup and gave it a sniff. It smelled fine, which is to say, it smelled tangy and pungent. Lizzie bravely took a wee little sip. Nothing seemed wrong with it. She walked over to the slightly cracked bathroom door and looked with sympathy at Jane, who knelt in front of the toilet, bracing her arms on the seat. She found a hair tie and gathered Jane’s lovely long hair into a loose braid down her back while Jane stayed poised over the toilet, waiting for the next round, which mercifully did not come. Lizzie dampened a washcloth with tepid water and handed it to Jane, who wiped her mouth and held the cloth there, waiting. She sat up, leaning against the wall along the toilet and caught her breath. Lizzie leaned over and flushed the toilet. “What was that?” She asked. “Are you coming down with something, do you think?”

“No idea,” Jane panted. “I feel fine, other than the fact that I just chundered my guts out. The soup just tasted so _vile._ I’ve never had a problem ordering from there before.”

“I sniffed it, and took a little taste. It didn’t taste off…” Lizzie said, “Are you sure you don’t feel warm or anything?” Lizzie reached down and felt Jane’s clammy skin. “You’re not hot, you don’t seem flushed, so much as pale.”

“No, I swear, I feel perfectly good. You’re sure you didn’t think the soup was bad?”

“It tasted like it always does, darling.” She held out a hand to Jane and pulled her up. They walked back out to the living room, with the sound of blaring dance music and a competition of queens in the background. Jane caught another whiff of the soup when she got near the couch and made a sound of disgust. She covered her nose and mouth and said, “No, Lizzie, you’ve got to get that out of here. I’ll be sick again.”

Lizzie lunged for the coffee table and waved Jane away. “Go, get to your bedroom. I’ll put it away.” Jane hurried away, breathing through her nose loudly, and disappeared into her bedroom. Lizzie packed the soup into an airtight container and stuck it in the refrigerator. Lizzie turned back toward the living room and stopped short. 

Nothing was wrong with that soup.

Lizzie went into Jane’s room, where she found her sister curled up on the bed in the fetal position, with her back to the door. Lizzie sat down by her sister, and gently began to stroke her back. “Jane?”

“Lizzie, the last couple periods I’ve had weren’t normal — I just had spotting, not a full…Spotting can be normal, right, either way? I didn’t really think about it because I’ve never been terribly regular, I figured it was stress. The last time Charlie and I...it was late October...” Jane was babbling, then trailed off.

Lizzie sprung up from the bed and was already moving toward the front door. She called behind her “I’m going to the pharmacy, I’ll be back in ten minutes.”


	13. Fig

Lizzie waited outside the bathroom door for Jane to finish peeing on the stick and then rushed into the tiny room as soon as she heard handwashing. Jane brushed past Lizzie and started pacing around the flat, but Lizzie stayed stationed next to the stick: one line for not pregnant, two lines for pregnant. Jane has set her phone timer for 60 seconds and left it sitting on the vanity. By about 30 seconds, Lizzie could see the faint emergence of two straight dark blue lines. She pressed cancel on the timer and watched as the lines grew darker, then darker still. She looked at her face in the mirror. Lizzie has the urge to ask her reflection _Is this really happening?_

A couple of days after the pregnancy test confirmed what the Hot and Sour Prawn Soup had already hinted at, Jane had an appointment at the gynaecologist’s. She was just shy of 12 weeks pregnant. Jane had been quiet since they left the doctor’s office, allowing Lizzie to guide her on and off the tube, paying only the barest attention to their surroundings, and resting her hand on her still flat abdomen. Lizzie knew her sister well, and could see that she was not distressed, just deep in thought, and so she allowed Jane to simply be. Lizzie’s mind, however, was going a mile a minute -- _would Jane end the pregnancy? Would she keep it? What on earth to do about Charlie Bingley?_

They walked up the stairs to Jane’s flat, both sisters still quiet. It was tea time, and Lizzie began assembling a small meal while Jane put the kettle on. Earlier in the day Lizzie had made Eccles cakes in order to calm her panic while Jane showed a young couple some properties. This was a trait Lizzie shared with her mother: baking under duress. Jane mashed up a ripe avocado and put a few slices of bread in the toaster oven, and Lizzie began to prepare the tea. She had bought caffeine free that morning when she’d run out to the shop for the Eccles cake ingredients. Lizzie had had the strongest urge to get anything Jane might need to feel happy and comfortable -- there was a bouquet of supermarket flowers on the coffee table, and Lizzie also got ingredients for a nutrient dense vegetable soup. Being able to do anything for Jane calmed Lizzie in this moment.

The two finally sat down to eat. Jane looked Lizzie straight in eye. Their movements around each other all day had been so instinctive -- nobody had needed to say much, Lizzie had known not to press. Jane also knew that Lizzie was dying to talk about this, and Jane was finally ready. Under her sister’s direct gaze, Lizzie finally felt her shoulders relax. All she really wanted to know was: did Jane think this situation was good news or bad news? They could go from there, whatever it was. Jane took in a deep breath and said, “I’m excited, Lizzie. This isn’t how I expected a baby to come into my life, but there it is. A baby is coming into my life!”

Lizzie felt tears of relief sting her eyes, but they didn’t spill over. That Jane didn’t feel despair over the pregnancy was the first hurdle cleared. “And the doctor said everything is okay? The baby’s fine?”

“Yes, I was so scared. I mean, all the wine at Christmas. I’ve been drinking coffee and tea with caffeine. But the doctor said that it was okay, that my consumption sounded moderate enough during the really critical periods. She didn’t see any cause for concern right now. That’s really what’s been on my mind since we figured it out.” Jane looked serene as began to cut her avocado toast.

“I’m so happy you’re happy, Janie,” Lizzie exhaled. “I just didn’t know how you’d be feeling about all this.”

“I don’t even know if happy is the right word. I’m glad, if that makes sense? I feel calm and ready to take this on. I need to think about what I’ll do, but I feel _right._ ” Jane wore a serene expression on her face. “We can stay here, I don’t need to sell the flat and look for a bigger place. I can turn the office into a nursery.”

Lizzie bit into her toast and chewed thoughtfully. “Yes, this place is lovely. Perhaps walking up and down the stairs with all that baby kit would be tiresome. But it’s a lovely neighbourhood. You wouldn’t want to leave it. Maybe as the child grows older, you can move into a different type of place.”

The two sisters ate in silence for a few moments before Jane said, “I don’t know what to do about Charlie. I’ll have to tell him, obviously, at some point.”

Lizzie was quiet, imagining Charlie Bingley’s face, the openness and the kindness she’d seen there. She didn’t think she’d imagined it. But then, she had also thought George Wickham was a good person. She’d thought Will Darcy was a complete knob, but it turns out he was only a partial knob. Who actually was Charlie? She looked into her sister’s lovely face and asked, “How are you feeling about Charlie now? What do you hope will happen?”

A little cloud passed over Jane’s face. “I really liked him. A lot. And it’s thrown off my equilibrium, because he’s not the person I thought he was. I got it wrong, and it has me doubting myself. I could raise this child on my own very easily. I have you and all the family to help me. I think Charlie would act honourably and wish to be there for the child. I dread it all, though. It’s not how I imagined having a baby. Custody agreements with a man who doesn’t really care about me.” Jane shook her shoulders and picked up an Eccles cake. “But when does life ever go according to plan?”

Lizzie took the hint. The subject of Charlie was big, and Jane wasn’t ready for it yet. “The due date is when?”

“End of June.”

“Well, that’s plenty of time, isn’t it? I’ll help with everything. Let’s figure out the easy things first and do the hard things later.”

“That’s good advice, Lizzie Lou. And good cakes, too,” Jane said, taking another bite of the sweet. “I need to move my office. Let’s start there.”

And the sisters spent the rest of the night making arrangements for the new little creature that would be arriving soon.

Lizzie went home a week after Jane’s first prenatal appointment, but before she left, she helped Jane relocate her office to an unused corner of the living room. Jane asked a carpenter she knew through work to install shelves above the desk and in the nursery’s closet. He was a kindly older man who didn’t ask questions about what the now empty room would be used for. He also insisted upon fixing a few of the stair treads outside the door to her flat. “Safety first, Love,” he’d told her. Once the office was taken care of, Jane seemed to feel good about where things were and Lizzie felt okay about going back to Longbourn. Jane hugged Lizzie after she loaded her things into the car and said, “I’ll come home soon. I need to tell Mum and Dad.”

“Okay, work up your courage for that. This time we can’t take off the edge with wine, unfortunately.”

“Right. Let’s say I’ll tell them in three weeks’ time. I don’t know if I’ll be showing more by then or not. I don’t know if that will make it better or worse to hear the news.” Jane burrowed her hands deeper into her coat pockets and looked down the street.

“Darling,” Lizzie said, putting her hands on Jane’s shoulders. “What you’re doing is wonderful. This is good news. All will be well. Do you want me to come back and stay? I’ve loads of time.”

“Maybe if you want to come by on the weekend?”

“I’ll come on Friday afternoon,” Lizzie said, and the look of relief on Jane’s face warmed and broke her heart all in one.

When Jane did come to Longbourn, she was showing slightly, but her stomach was also concealed in a bulky, fuzzy jumper. Only Lizzie knew what to look for. Jane had come for dinner and would stay the night, but first she stopped in Lizzie’s office. Lizzie still had a few more weeks of winter to enjoy peace and calm before she needed to begin contacting clients and re-activating her team. She was sitting on the old Persian run surrounded by piles of contracts, scrawling on a clipboard when Jane found her. Lizzie hopped up and gave Jane a quick squeeze. “You’re looking well!”

“Thanks, I’m feeling good,” Jane said, smiling. “I had the afternoon free, so I went to a yoga class, took a nap, then drove here. I needed to get centered before talking to Mum and Dad. Well, really Mum. I just don’t know how she’ll take this. And I imagine Dad will just make a joke or two, which I can handle.”

“You know it’s mostly Charlie they’re going to be wondering about. So just tell them you’re not ready to talk about that part, because that part’s not finished. Repeat as needed. I’ll back you up.”

Lizzie finished up a few notes and then the two set out for the house, stopping by Jane’s car to bring in her overnight bag. It was Thursday night and Lizzie had suggested this day of the week because Mary had a seminar, and Thursdays were usually a late night at the salon for Kitty and Lydia. It would be easier to start with the Kingpins of the family. 

Mrs. Bennet made one of Jane’s favourites that night: Yankee Pot Roast, a dish from Franny’s own New England childhood. Longbourn smelled like childhood right then, and Lizzie could imagine how bizarre it would be to announce something like a pregnancy to your family while surrounded by millions of reminders of being a girl. Mr. Bennet was pouring out a nice bold red wine he favoured with this dish, but Jane held her hand over her glass. “Actually, Dad, you know what? I can’t drink right now.”

“Oh?” Mr. Bennet raised a greying eyebrow, leaving Jane to explain herself. Lizzie looked at Jane, whose face remained neutral and calm.

“I can’t drink because I’m pregnant.” Jane had clearly decided just to rip off the band-aid.

Lizzie looked across the table at her mother’s face, and over at her father, who still hovered with the wine bottle in the air. Mrs. Bennet’s mouth had dropped open, and Mr. Bennet’s mouth quirked into a little bemused smile. “ _Pregnant, Janie?_ ” Mrs. Bennet finally said.

Jane nodded, and Mrs. Bennet let out a screech of joy, then she gasped. “You and Charlie, are you back together? You never said a word!”

Mr. Bennet sat back down and filled his wine glass. “If that’s so, it was quick, my dear,” he said to Mrs. Bennet. 

“It happened before he left for Asia. I haven’t spoken to him about it yet. I’m not sure what will happen there, but I’d rather focus on the part I do know, which is I’m now in the very early part of my second trimester. I’m converting my office into a nursery.” Jane began to eat her dinner.

“Goodness,” said Mrs. Bennet, clearly flummoxed. “He doesn’t even know?”

“I’m, um, I’m not ready to talk about anything with Charlie, because it’s not finished business, Mum.”

“But I just don’t understand how —“ Mrs. Bennet began.

“Mum,” said Lizzie. “We don’t need to understand it right now.”

Mr. Bennet rarely exerted himself when it came to the interpersonal issues in his household. He accepted the chaos of five daughters without ever trying to shape it, and the orchestrations of his wife, who _did_ try to shape it with varying degrees of success. He loved his wife and his daughters all in their own ways, and was content to laugh at absurdity, embrace it as part of his life. Lizzie watched as a rare look of tenderness passed quickly across his face. He gave his wife’s hand a brief squeeze that seemed to say _Later, I hear you_. He looked at his eldest and said, “My dear, this is quite a surprise. We’re so happy for you. What can you tell us so far about our grandchild?”

Lizzie felt her heart surge with love for her family in that moment. Jane described how she’d learned of the pregnancy, how she still couldn’t seem to tolerate prawn, but that seemed to be the only problem food so far. She couldn’t seem to get enough avocado. How she had been calling the baby “Fig” because at her first appointment, the doctor told her that’s how big the foetus was. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet laughed, and asked questions, encouraged Jane to tell them more and more. Jane relaxed and bloomed under the attention. A weight was lifted.

Lizzie saw her mother suck in her breath and flare her eyes a few times, clearly dying to speak or question, but she held back. She watched her father refrain from satirical commentary for one of the first times in her memory. Jane discussed plans, and Mrs. Bennet talked about the benefits of having Jane and the baby stay at Longbourn in the first weeks. Nobody said Charlie’s name, though Lizzie felt the presence of the question at the table as though it was a fifth guest. Everybody kindly held back, just letting the question be for right now. That night the Bennets were a team and their objective was making their oldest girl feel safe and at home.


	14. Serendipity

February passed, rainier than usual, and gave way to March. Twice a year, without fail, Lizzie argued with herself what was better: autumn, and the sweet smell of falling leaves and the quieting earth, or the first smell of damp dirt. She was ever fickle in her allegiance: whichever moment was in front of her was the winner. She’d been staying in London with Jane a couple of days each week, always backup at her prenatal checkups, always leaving behind a kitchen full of food from their mother. But one day in early March Lizzie was riding Marigold over the cold fields of Longbourn when she caught the first whiff of waking earth. She could feel her heart jump with pleasure and anticipation. She would have less time for London soon. Lizzie determined to see if Jane was amenable to weekly visits from their mum in Lizzie’s place on occasion. Work was about to pick up.

The rest of the family had taken in the news of the pregnancy with equanimity. That is only after Lizzie had prepared her sisters and told them not to make Jane feel bad about Charlie. Kitty and Lydia begged Jane to find out the gender, and Mary promptly went online and began ordering books for the baby. She drove a bundle of them up to London herself one day, organizing them on the bookcase in the nursery while Jane smiled and and chuckled at her sister’s determination to make a tiny feminist. “I didn’t know there was a baby book about Malala Yousafzai,” she told Mary. 

Lizzie was in contact with the majority of her regular clients again, making plans for spring, and following up with some leads on larger design jobs. Naturally Charlotte and Bill’s project would be the biggest thing on the near horizon, and she’d confirmed with Anne deBourgh that the work could begin on April 15. Anne passed along her mother’s offer of having Lizzie stay again at Rosings with them while the work got underway, as Bill and Charlotte’s new place would still be under construction. Lizzie expressed her pleasure and thanks, and said a silent prayer that Will Darcy wouldn’t see the need to be there during that time. While she was at it, she also hoped that Lady Catherine didn’t have any plans to throw an Easter ball. 

One day while the rain battered against the windows of her office at Longbourn, Lizzie’s phone buzzed with a call from Aunt Maggie. Lizzie answered the call, a smile already in her voice as she said, “Hullo! How’s things?” Lizzie expected the subject of conversation to be Jane. Lizzie hadn’t spoken to her aunt or uncle since before Jane revealed the news about the baby to them.

“Well, things are pretty exciting, actually!” Maggie sang out. “Edward and I have gotten quite a surprise.”

“Oh?” Lizzie wondered briefly if Maggie herself was expecting another baby, and tried quickly to calculate her aunt’s age. 

“An aunt of mine passed away and left us a cottage! She was quite old, and had been in domiciliary care. I hadn’t seen her in about a year, though we spoke on the phone every week. I never asked — I assumed she sold the old place. But no, she willed it to me.”

“Oh, wow! Which aunt was this?”

“My father’s oldest sister. She never married, and was really quite the wild woman. She came of age in the 60s, never wanted to marry, always held a good job, and saved and invested well. The cottage she lived in belonged to my grandparents, and Aunt Carol inherited it. She lived there permanently once she retired. I never dreamt she’d leave it to me.”

“Wow, that’s incredible. She had no children, then?”

“No, a few other cousins took care of her, though. They lived closer to her, in Derbyshire.”

“No sour grapes on their part about the cottage, I hope?”

“I shouldn’t think so. I know the old place likely needs a lot of work. The property is worth a lot, though. She left a condition that if I sold the place within ten years, I would split the revenue with my cousins, less their own inheritance from her, or any improvements I do.” 

“Goodness, that’s incredible. You said it’s in Derbyshire?” Lizzie asked. 

“Yes, a little town called Lambton, quite close to the Peaks. I think Aunt Carol left it to me because I loved when we’d visit her there. The house has a little snug that we’d sit in for hours. We’d read, and talk, and tell stories. I think you’d love it there, too, Lizzie. It’s a charming place. And that’s actually why I’m calling…”

And that’s how Lizzie found herself planning to visit the north of England with the Gardiners. Aunt Maggie and Uncle Edward knew Lizzie would be able to advise them on the environment around the cottage, and Lizzie knew she could give them a little bit of time before her season truly began. She would drive up to Lambton to spend the last week of March with the Gardiners. Derbyshire. It seemed like the place was determined to pull her in.

Will Darcy had spent all of January and February doing some thinking. After he’d taken Georgie back to school, he’d leaned hard back into work. The project at Netherfield had been delayed until spring, and Will was absorbed in a renovation of a Grade 2 listed building in Twickenham. During this time, he did not date, but he thought about it with a seriousness he never had before. Lizzie Bennet was not happening. In fact, though Will still thought of her, occasionally daydreamed about her, he knew it was unlikely that they’d ever meet again. Still, he felt he owed her. She may not want anything to do with him, but Will felt she had improved him. The feelings he developed for Lizzie showed him he no longer wanted to be alone. And if he no longer wanted to be alone, he had to really try to date, to find a good woman to settle down with.

Unfortunately, he didn’t quite know how to begin. The last time he’d asked out a woman who hadn’t thrown herself at him, it ended with a wicked row and her fleeing at first light. He could go online, but Will couldn’t bear the thought of matching with somebody he already knew, or of anybody finding out. He wasn’t ready for that yet. He decided to begin by being more social and friendly. Will had learned from Lizzie that he could try harder to make better beginnings.

Will didn’t have a chance to catch up with Charlie in any meaningful way until early February. Charlie had been going back and forth between London and Edinburgh, settling some business remaining from the sale of the hotels. They’d met up at their usual pub. Charlie seemed glad to see him, but subdued. They talked about the trip through Asia, the Christmas holidays, the Netherfield project. They talked about their football club, and a new band a friend had told Charlie about. Charlie did not mention Jane Bennet, and Will didn’t bring her up. He could feel the shabbiness of his behavior. Charlie wasn’t quite himself, that was something Will should have asked his friend about. Will did not because of the deep pit of shame in his stomach. He knew why Charlie was down. Whether or not Jane Bennet had withdrawn because of Will’s interference or not, Will could not bear to look at his part in things up close yet, and despised his own cowardice.

It had been an uncomfortable couple of months.

Georgie had finally called him out. She rang him up from school after a weekend visit to their townhouse in London. “You’re moping, and you’re acting like you’ve got no power here,” she told him, clearly exasperated.

“Power with whom exactly, Georgiana?” Will had asked her, somewhat coolly.

“Oh, don’t use that tone on me. I mean power to make things different for yourself. Maybe Elizabeth isn’t on the table anymore, but you’re acting like your life is over. I wasn’t even this sad when I broke up with Matthew Barnes. And we actually snogged, unlike you and Elizabeth.” Georgie sighed into the phone. “And no, we never did more than snog, before you ask.”

It had come to this. Will was allowing his seventeen year old sister to stage manage his life. “What exactly do you propose I do, Georgie?”

“Try having fun again. You’re young. You’ve got friends. Go out with them, in groups, like.”

“I do!” 

“No, no. You only go out with Charlie and Anne. You see the same people over and over again...Oh, I know! We should throw a party for your birthday.”

“33 isn’t exactly a banner year. Won’t people think it’s weird?”

“Who cares? We could throw a party at Pemberley. You could have people for the weekend. Get Charlie’s sister to help.”

“ _No,_ not Caroline,” Will said forcefully.

“Yeah,” Georgie said, now sounding skeptical. “She is rather a nightmare. Please don’t ever pick a girl like her, okay?”

“Not a problem,” said Will. This conversation was becoming more and more ridiculous by the second.

“Well, look, what would we need to do to throw a party, seriously? How hard could it be?”

“Georgie, no. Come on.”

“Look, do it for me, okay? I’m tired of seeing you sad. If I promise not to go overboard, would it be okay with you if I worked with Anne to throw a party up at the house? Please?”

Will didn’t say anything.

Georgie’s voice became wheedling and soft, “Please, Wills? Just like Mum and Dad used to do?”

“Oh my _GOD,_ ” he finally yelled into the phone. “Fine. You can ask Anne and Mrs. Bell for help. My birthday weekend.”

Georgie laughed maniacally. “I’m sorry. I know that was manipulative, but I have to use every trick in the book with you sometimes.”

In the end, Georgie and Anne came up with a weekend gathering of Will’s friends, and some friends of friends. Georgie had stressed to Anne that they needed to try and include some suitable women, because Will was hopeless at this stuff. Anne had to agree with her after seeing Will mishandle his crush on Lizzie Bennet, but kept that to herself. Mrs. Bell remembered well Mr. and Mrs. Darcy’s parties back in the day, and knew just how to prepare the grand estate for visitors. Only the “show rooms” of Pemberley were decorated with period accurate furniture for tourists. There were plenty of bedrooms for houseguests throughout the grand home, and Mrs. Bell began calling in the team who would assist in preparing the rooms. She, Anne, and Georgie worked on the menu and booked the caterers who would set up shop in the kitchen for the three days of revelry that would make up Will’s birthday weekend. Georgie bit her lip as they talked and admitted to Anne, “Will didn’t give me a budget. We might be going too far.”

“Oh, this one’s on me,” said Anne. “Will deserves it all.” 

Will decided to take the week of the party off. He drove up to Pemberley the Monday before the party weekend. He was embarrassed and pleased that the girls had gone to all this trouble. Anne would drive Georgie up on Thursday night, and they’d welcome their guests the next afternoon. This week he really did plan on disconnecting from work. He had a pile of new books, a pair of new running shoes for the trails around Pemberley, and a few bottles of good wine he’d been saving for a nice occasion. Will’s good friends and family would come to help him see in a new year. He decided his 33rd birthday would be a good time to make a new start.

Lizzie fell head over heels in love with Aunt Carol Hawkins’ cottage at first sight. She drove up to meet the Gardiners at the home in Lambton and followed the wonky directions Uncle Edward had provided. The cottage was stone, and Uncle Edward told her that the builder they spoke to estimated it to be from the 17th century. Lizzie felt a little shiver of familiarity as her Aunt and Uncle walked her around the perimeter of the house and to the back gardens. Though it was just early spring, Lizzie could smell the lush verdure. It was a raised garden, and through some of the trees toward the edge of the property, she could see some of the village below. They were on the edge of the oldest part of town. She could see the spire of the church, and hear happy noises from the street beyond, the sounds of people calling to one another and small lorries rumbling by with goods meant for the high street beyond.

Lizzie’s littlest cousins, Andrew who was seven and a _half,_ he reminded her, and Stella, who was nine, were cavorting in the damp grass. They saw Lizzie and came running and screaming toward her. “Lizzie, look! We have a holiday home now!”

“And what do you think? Do you like it here?” Lizzie wrapped them both into a hug at the same time, and pulled back to hear the answers.

“It’s wicked,” yelled Andrew. “And we got to see it before Ben and Olivia!”

“That’s right, they’re away at school, so they didn’t get to come, but Mum and Dad said _we_ could ‘play hookie,’” Stella added smugly. 

“Suckers!” Lizzie said in an enthusiastic sing-song voice. “Come, let’s explore the garden. What have you found?” And the children showed her a garden gnome they unearthed under a badly overgrown herbaceous border (they’d christened him Pikachu because of his yellow hat), a good tree for climbing, and a snail the size of a golf ball (they could not agree on a good name for him, and didn’t care for Lizzie’s suggestion of “Horace”). Behind her she saw Maggie and Edward looking at the roof and gesturing toward the building in animated conversation. Lambton was a beautifully situated place. They were on the edge of the Peak District, and the village was close enough to several larger towns where the Gardiners could get anything they needed. And the house was quirky and charming, with its very own overgrown secret garden in the back. “Come on,” Lizzie said to the kids. “Will you show me the house?” And the kids each grabbed one of her hands and pulled her toward their parents, laughing.

Though the house hadn’t been lived in for quite sometime, it was in decent shape. Aunt Maggie had thrown all the sheets off the furniture to reveal loads of competing patterns and throw pillows. The curtains were a bit dusty, and Aunt Carol’s own painted landscapes of the Peak District leaned in stacks against the walls. There were stuffed chairs and books crammed into all corners. Maggie showed Lizzie the snug with great affection in her voice. There was a huge fireplace and a window that looked out onto the garden. Two enormous wingback chairs flanked the fireplace, and Maggie patted them fondly. “This is where we’d have all our girltalk,” she said. “I think I’d like to keep these here.”

“It’s lovely,” Lizzie said. “All of it. You’ll use it for a holiday home?” Uncle Edward came in and put his arm around his wife’s waist, looking down fondly at her as she spoke.

“Yes. We’ve had the inspection done, and there are quite a few things we’ll want to do to the house, but fortunately, structurally, Aunt Carol did take quite good care of it,” Maggie said.

“We’ll come up here for holidays and visit the Peaks. There’s excellent fishing up here. It’ll be great for some quiet family time away from the city,” Edward said.

“Well, it’s incredible. I love it. Make sure you leave room for me to blow up an air bed every now and then,” Lizzie smiled. “Do you mind if I go back out to the garden?” Maggie and Edward laughed her off. They knew she was itching to begin cataloging plants.

A couple of days into her visit in Lambton, Lizzie and her Aunt walked down to the village to have a look at the shops. Uncle Edward stayed home with the children, fiddling with the new grill he bought as the children played in the garden. As they neared the high street, Lizzie saw a signpost indicating “Pemberley”. She started, and looked up the road where the estate presumably stood. “What is it?” Maggie said, looking down the road as well now.

“Pemberley! Is it close by?”

“Not quite 8 kilometres up the road, why?”

Lizzie felt a little bubble of panic in her throat and fought to keep her voice level and calm. She started walking again toward the shops and Maggie followed along, still looking at her niece’s blushing cheeks. “Lizzie?” she asked.

Lizzie heaved a resigned sigh. “Look, it’s a really long story. I don’t even know where to begin, actually. But I know the owner of Pemberley and...we don’t get along. That’s the best way I can describe it.”

“Really! And how do you know him?”

“That’s part of the long story.”

“I won’t press your confidence, but…” Aunt Maggie had a teasing gleam in her eye.

Lizzie stopped and looked at her. “Well, we may not be genetically related, but I do think I’ve inherited my curiosity from you. So I can see a little explanation will not suffice.”

“I’d say that’s a fair assessment. Look, there’s a pub. Shall we have a glass of wine, and hear the story?” Aunt Maggie gestured across the street.

Lizzie huffed an exaggerated sigh, but was smiling, and followed Maggie. 

On Wednesday morning, Lizzie woke up to a beautiful sunny day. Her aunt and uncle were planning to take the children into Derby to see a model train museum, and Lizzie said she’d spend the day hiking the area. Talking over her history with Will Darcy yesterday had eased her dread of being so near Pemberley. After all, Will Darcy wouldn’t be at Pemberley in the middle of a work week in March— what was to draw him here at this time of year? Surely she could hike the hills, take a few selfies in the cloud-filled valleys, and wander the fields beyond Lambton without impunity. She could now admit to herself that she was filled with a deep curiosity to see the place. Aunt Maggie had asked the man behind the counter in the pub about Pemberley yesterday, and though Lizzie had feigned nonchalance, she heard it all with great interest. The family still lived there, but mainly at the holidays. The building was open for visitors only in summer, but there was a good view of the estate from public trails just to the south of the property. That was all the encouragement Lizzie needed. 

After she saw the Gardiners off, she filled her backpack with lunch and water as well as a trail map she’d taken from the Visitors’ Center yesterday in town and set off in the general direction of Pemberley. It was nearly April and the sun and lack of wind made the day feel nearly balmy. Lizzie swung her arms as she walked, feeling her heart lift as she left town and headed into the fields in the general direction of Pemberley. For some time she followed a shallow stream flowing rapidly with the spring melt, hypnotized by the sound of water crashing over rocks. She listened to birds calling to each other in the clusters of trees she occasionally passed through. She stopped to examine dormant clumps of grass, and gloried in the feeling of the warm sun beating down on her black fleece pullover. After a bit, she could see the chimney stacks of what she guessed to be Pemberley through the trees ahead of her. 

Lizzie came to an elegant wrought iron fence and followed it toward a clearing. She could see the outline of a large manor house through a dense thicket of shrubs with bare branches. She pressed ahead and finally found a clear view down to the building. The sight of it took her breath away.

She couldn’t recall ever seeing a place that blended so well into its surroundings, and she longed to see it in summer, with its groves full of lush greenery. The hills just beyond seemed to nestle the manor on all sides, and Lizzie could see a line of trees that suggested a stream that must empty into the small lake not far from the house. She could see an avenue of trees that led to a small temple, and on the other side of the house, she felt sure there would be formal gardens. Lizzie was itching to explore every inch of the place, but instead contented herself with walking along the fence and scanning the grounds with hungry eyes.

She was determined to follow the fence wherever it might lead. She remembered Will saying that they’d donated much of the land over the years to the National Trust and conservation efforts. Perhaps there was an angle that could allow her to get closer to the stream. Lizzie was focused so intently on looking through the fence that she was startled to hear running footsteps coming up behind her. They were the steady footfall of a runner, and not the haphazard steps of a madman looking for hikers to murder. She stepped closer to the fence so they could pass her, still gazing down at the house. A blur in bright running shoes ran a few steps past her, then the sound of the running steps slowed to a complete halt. Lizzie looked over at the runner and saw Will Darcy’s astonished face. “Elizabeth?” His voice was a mix of confusion and wonder.


	15. Lone Prince in a Lone Castle

Will couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and because of his disbelief, he was sure he looked like a right idiot. He was breathing heavily from his punishing run, and he knew he was sweaty. Will closed his mouth and tried to school his face into something more friendly and welcoming, but his astonishment wouldn’t seem to allow it. _Elizabeth was at Pemberley!_ Why?

If the strongest emotion running through Will’s mind was surprise, then the one currently ruling Lizzie’s was humiliation. She was horrified to be caught snooping on his land, and mortified to have to face him again after their last encounter. Lizzie tried to smile politely, but found herself, possibly for the first time in her life, totally speechless. He surprised her by breaking the silence.

“Wow, Elizabeth!”

She smiled and shrugged helplessly as if to agree that it was, in fact, her: Elizabeth. She still couldn’t bring herself to form a word.

“Uh...what brings you to this area?” Will asked.

Lizzie finally managed to croak out a few words in a rush. “My aunt and uncle recently inherited a cottage in Lambton. They invited me to come and have a look this week. I didn’t realize Pemberley was here until I saw a signpost in the village below the other day. I thought I might take it in on my hike today.”

Will smiled at her. “Well, you’re a famously intrepid explorer of your surroundings. I’m glad you came this way to have a look.”

Lizzie looked him in the eye for the first time and realized he was smiling at her, and she found her courage and smiled back. “It’s beautiful, Will. I’ve never seen a place so well situated.”

“Would you like to come have a look at the grounds?” He gestured beyond the fence.

“Oh, I couldn’t. I would hate to interrupt your day.”

“No, it’s no interruption. I’ve taken the week off, I’ve nothing but time,” he insisted. Will wanted to convey graciousness, and quickly added, “I would love you to see the grounds. We’re well known for our gardens. I’d love to share them with you.” He smiled kindly. Lizzie could hardly refuse such a genuine invitation. “Come on,” said Will, gesturing down the path. “There’s a gate not far off.”

They walked for a few moments more down the path and finally got to a gate with a small wrought iron arbor built in. Will reached into the pocket of his running shorts and pulled out a key. He opened the squeaking gate for her and Lizzie walked through. The the path down toward the manor and gardens was done in crushed pea gravel and undulating steps of weathered wood. It was lined with craggy rocks and bits of greenery that had been latent all winter and were now beginning the work of coming back to life. As they walked, Will asked Lizzie for her impressions of Lambton, and to tell him more about the Gardiners’ cottage. “Oh, yes, I know that place!” Will said. “It seems to be from about about the late 1600s. I’d go to far as to say possibly the 1690s.”

“Goodness, you’re able to be that specific!”

“Well,” said Will, with an impish smile on his face. He pointed to a tree they were passing. “About how old would you say that Common Oak over there is?”

Lizzie chuckled, and Will felt his heart swell. “Fair point, fair point,” she said. “I know my business, and you know yours.”

Will laughed and they were quiet. She did pause, though, and take a scan of the tree’s trunk. “Obviously to be accurate, I’d need a tape measure, but based on the size of the trunk, I would estimate that Quercus Rober to be roughly 10 to 15 years old.” Lizzie spoke in a highly pedantic silly accent. Will laughed and nodded at her. “Nearly bang on the mark. My mother had those planted about 13 years ago, when Georgie was a little girl.”

The mention of his mother and Georgie made Lizzie think of the letter Will wrote her, and she grew quiet. “I’m so sorry about your mother and father. I can only imagine how difficult that was, and still is,” Lizzie said softly.

Will’s smile disappeared, but he only looked thoughtful. “I don’t know that I’ll ever get over it,” he said simply. 

“I don’t think you have to,” said Lizzie. “I think grief of that magnitude is just something you adapt to. It will ebb and flow over time, I think.”

Will thought for a moment and said, “That’s quite a good description. It’s something you always carry. You feel its weight more keenly at some times.”

“Poor Georgiana,” said Lizzie. “She’s had to bear so much loss at such a young age.”

“She’s a strong girl. I’m proud of her,” he said simply. He could feel the conversation take a sad turn, one he didn’t want. Will had never been so aware of the movements and tempo of a conversation. He felt as though he was conducting a symphony, but it wasn’t stressful. In fact, he felt a confidence and joy he couldn’t begin to believe given that he was talking to Elizabeth after the last scene that occurred between them. Will was determined to show her that he understood what she’d tried to say, that he got it. He wanted her respect. He wanted to show her that he was kinder than she must think him. 

“Georgie will be here this weekend, actually,” he said. “Would you like to meet her? I think she’d very much like to know you.”

Lizzie could scarcely believe how well the last twenty minutes had gone, and now Will was trusting her with his little sister. “I’d be honoured,” she answered. “I’ll be here until Monday morning. The Gardiners and I don’t have any fixed plans. Any time would be lovely.”

“Would you and your aunt and uncle like to come to dinner tomorrow night? Anne will be here, too.”

“Oh, Anne is coming!” Lizzie said with excitement. “I’d love it! Only…”

Will’s heart sank. “Yes?”

“Well, the children are here, too. My cousins, Andrew and Stella. They’re my aunt and uncle’s youngest children. I don’t know that you envisioned entertaining a seven and a nine year old.”

“No! We’d love it! Bring them, too,” said Will. “Look, we’ll work out the details, but see we’re here at the beginning of the avenue.” He coughed officiously. “Now, Miss Bennet. Allow me to begin your tour.”

After their tour, Will pressed Lizzie to come into the house for refreshment or at the very least to allow him to drive her back down to Lambton. She thanked him again and again and insisted that she really did want to walk back the way she came. The only way she seemed to be able to convince him was by telling him that she wanted to examine the stream she passed earlier. Will walked her to a different gate and showed her out. As she passed through, he exclaimed “Oh, your phone number. I don’t have it.” Lizzie shyly recited it for him and felt a buzz in her back pocket. “There, I texted you,” Will said. “Now you’ve got mine.”

Lizzie waved to him and walked away. After she gained some distance from him, she turned around to see him walking up the driveway, back toward his enormous, beautiful home. _A lone prince in a lone castle_ , she thought. How strange would it have been to grow up in such a large place, with so few siblings around? Probably not very strange, if that was all you’d ever known. 

As Lizzie made her way back to the stream that flowed down to Lambton, she thought back to the way she’d told off Will for his behavior in Kent. Lizzie could hardly believe her reproofs could work magic like this, yet their visit today was evidence that maybe it had. He was warm and friendly to her today, despite the fact that the last time they saw each other she had parroted Wickhams’s lies to his face and told him to bugger off. Lizzie wasn’t sorry that she’d rejected him at the time, and wasn’t sure whether or not to trust the goodwill and openness in his manner today. What he’d said back at Rosings still stung.

Lizzie reached the water and found a nice dry, sunny spot on its bank. She sat down and unpacked the sandwich she’d brought along, and watched the water go by. Lizzie admitted to herself that she did fancy Will Darcy. Just a wee bit. She wanted to see what their next encounter would bring.

Lizzie and the Gardiners drove up to Pemberley half six the next evening. Aunt Maggie had not grilled her about the sudden change of heart toward the owner of Pemberley. Lizzie only explained it as: “We bumped into each other yesterday, and he was much more pleasant.” Maggie accepted Lizzie’s shrug. Her aunt was sure that Lizzie had only provided an abbreviated version of events between herself and Will Darcy. There would be plenty of time for observation tonight, Maggie told herself.

Will told them just to dress casually, but Lizzie had done her hair with more care than usual and put on a bit of makeup. It was strange to be so nervous about seeing Will. After all, she’d put in no effort around him at Netherfield, and even less at Rosings. She checked her appearance in the reflection of the car window as she closed it once the children had hopped out. Her aunt and uncle looked up at the beautiful manor. The sun was beginning to dip low in the west, but the sky was light enough for them to drink in the splendor of the building. Even Andrew and Stella were temporarily awed. They walked around to the side of the manor where Will stood waiting and waving to them.

“Hello, welcome to Pemberley,” he said, smiling. Lizzie introduced Will to her family, and Will promptly offered to let the children raid the game closet.

“This castle has a _game closet?_ ” Andrew asked, excitement rising in his voice.

Will laughed. “It’s not really a castle, just an old estate. And yes, we call it the game closet. Some of my sister’s old toys and games are in there. Maybe even some of _my_ old games and toys. When she was younger, she had these vortex spinner things that she would shoot down the main stairwell. I bet if you ask her, she’ll show you how to do that tonight.” The kids looked at each other, their eyes already glowing.

“You’ve already made two lifelong fans, Will,” said Maggie, looking down fondly at her children. “I’ve spent quite a lot of time in Lambton over the years, and have visited Pemberley in summer, of course, during the tours. It’s such a treat to come here now.”

Uncle Edward added, “And is that a trout stream just back there?”

“It is,” acknowledged Will. “The Darcys have lived here since the house was built in the 1700s. We created the Pemberley Foundation in my father’s generation, because he knew the house just wasn’t conducive to a modern family’s way of going on, but he just couldn’t stand to be the Darcy to let it go to the National Trust. So that’s how we share with the public, but continue to maintain a residence here. But really, I think it was that he couldn’t bear to let go of the trout stream.”

They all laughed and Will led them inside. Lizzie marveled at this turnabout. _Why was he being so friendly? Was it just because he was on his home turf, and therefore had no reason to be shy?_ Aunt Maggie looked at Lizzie’s face, and registered the confusion under the smile. She would have liked to have told her niece: “He’s _in love with you_ , you goof,” but it was too early for tough love. Maggie was a little less certain of how Lizzie felt toward the handsome, tall man. That he was overflowing with admiration for her niece was immediately clear to Maggie.

Lizzie needed time, Maggie knew.

The door led into a lovely foyer that had clearly been modernized for a family living in the 21st century. There were old touches from the manor that had been kept and incorporated into a modern design. Lizzie preferred Pemberley’s commitment to architectural heritage over Rosings’, though she did respect what Lady Catherine was trying to do. But here at Pemberley, there was no awkward taste. Just inviting, comfortable elegance. 

Will explained that his mother had remodeled the interior not long before she passed away. “You can think of this wing of the house like a townhome. We have other spaces in the manor that are updated for guests, and then, Maggie, as you know, some spaces are historically maintained for our visitors and the purpose of education. But since about 1955, the family has always lived in this section. We’ve got a wonderful pair of caretakers who live in a converted wing in the back center of the manor. All the life in the house is centered here and in their wing.”

At that moment, Anne deBourgh came to meet them in the foyer, bringing a lovely teenage girl along with her. Anne greeted Lizzie with a hug and a kiss on both cheeks. “Hello, you!” Anne said. “What a pleasant surprise!” Lizzie explained to the Gardiners in more detail how she and Anne were connected. And then Will introduced his little sister.

Though Georgie was bold and comfortable within her family and to those who knew her, she could be quite shy with strangers. Ever since he told Georgie and Anne that he’d met Lizzie Bennet by accident and had invited her and her family to dinner, he’d been on pins and needles. Earlier in the day Mrs. Bell had helped him gather the ingredients he needed to make dinner for eight people, and took pity on him and made a trifle for the pudding. Mrs. Bell could see that he was nervous and wanted this to go well, though she didn’t know why a man like Will Darcy should be nervous about much of anything. Anne and Georgie had been excited when they arrived earlier that afternoon and were informed of the impromptu guests. Georgie, though, got a bit anxious. She felt that if Lizzie had agreed to come to dinner, it was because Will still had a chance with her. And if Will still had a chance with Lizzie Bennet, Georgie didn’t want to do anything that might contribute to Will’s blowing it. It made her feel more shy than usual.

Will held his breath as he watched Georgie shake Lizzie’s hand. Lizzie smiled warmly at Georgie, ignoring everybody else in the room. Will was caught up in conversation with Edward and Anne while Maggie attended to removing her children’s coats, so he couldn’t quite hear what the two of them talked about. But he saw Georgie break into a real smile, not a nervous smile, and within 30 seconds, Lizzie had Georgie giggling and talking comfortably. Will felt his heart lift. He wanted Georgie to understand why he liked Lizzie Bennet so much, to see if she saw it, too. Will knew in that moment she did.

They sat down to dinner in the comfortable family dining room that was part of the huge kitchen remodel, and enjoyed a lovely meal getting to know each other. Edward Gardiner’s broad American accent was warm and friendly, and Georgie asked him loads of questions about New York City, where she was dying to go. Anne and Maggie discussed _The Great British Bake-off_ and whether or not the show could really ever be as great as it once was without Mary Berry. Will went back and forth between all conversations (even weighing in on Noel Fielding’s contributions to the _Bake-off_ ), but mostly engaging Andrew and Stella. He asked them about school and their favourite shows and cartoons. They excitedly told him about what they’d uncovered in Aunt Carol’s house and garden, and their plans to build a fort in the back. 

Andrew stopped describing his ideas for one moment and then asked Will, “Lizzie says you’re quite a good builder. Maybe you could help us decide what to make?”

Will looked at her and smiled a bit. What was that smile, what did it mean? Lizzie wondered. His face was tender looking. Was it for her or for Andrew and Stella? “He’s little different than a builder, darling. Mr. Darcy designs beautiful new buildings and helps to remodel old ones,” she told Andrew. 

“Do you think you could come and look, Mr. Darcy?” Asked Stella. 

“Certainly,” he answered. “And I _can_ build things,” he told Andrew. “I just usually draw them and other people build them. But maybe we can design and build something together.”

“That will be good. I’m going to be a builder when I grow up,” Andrew said. “So I need the practice.”

Will looked over at Lizzie. “You can never begin your portfolio too early, can you?”

She looked back at him and she knew her face was betraying her. Lizzie could feel how wide her smile was, and he smiled back the same.

“Can you come tomorrow?” Andrew pressed.

“Andrew!” Said his mother. “We can’t take all of Mr. Darcy’s time.”

“No, I’d be very happy to come by,” Will said. He turned back to Andrew, who had unwittingly given him a reason to see Lizzie Bennet again. Andrew was now his favourite person. “I can come by in the morning, if you like.”

Andrew and Stella both nodded vigorously and voiced their pleasure at the scheme. Will went over to a drawer in a sideboard and grabbed a couple of pads of that famous Darcy & deBourgh graph paper as well as a few pencils. “It all begins with a dream, then you start to put that dream on paper,” he told the children seriously. “Start drawing what you’re thinking about for your fort. Then we can see what’s possible tomorrow.” Andrew and Stella immediately began sketching. 

“You don’t know what you’re in for,” laughed Lizzie. “Tell me, do you have experience with building 7 story forts that include a disappearing roof to watch the stars at night?”

“Oh, loads,” said Will teasingly. He realized that everybody at the table had gone silent and was watching him and Lizzie smile and tease each other back and forth. He coughed, embarrassed, and Anne took pity on him. “Did Will tell you what we have planned for the weekend?” She asked. The Gardiners and Lizzie shook their heads.

“It’s Will’s birthday!” Georgie trumpeted. “We haven’t had a party at Pemberley in years, not since before Mum and Daddy passed. But I fought him about it, and he let me and Anne put something together.”

“Oh, happy birthday!” Said Maggie. “Which actual day is it?”

“Sunday,” Will told them. “We’ve got some friends coming up to stay, and a party on Saturday night, if you’d like to attend.”

“Oh, I have a feeling that party’s for the young people,” said Edward. “Lizzie, you ought to attend, though.”

Before Lizzie had a chance to feel silly in front of the whole table, Georgie burst out, “Oh, please do come! It’s going to be lovely. Some of our guests will be hiking in the Peaks on Saturday, and we’d love you to come then, too.”

“Or even just the party,” said Anne. “We don’t want to monopolize you while you’re with your family.”

“Right —however much time any of you can give us,” said Georgie. “This has been so fun tonight.”

“Okay, then,” said Lizzie. “I’d love to come to the party.” She saw Will smile down into his lap, and to screen her further embarrassment at the situation, and what she felt was both the Gardiners and Will’s sister and cousin trying to matchmake something she now surprisingly wanted, she stood up and said, “Now, let’s clear these plates. I heard a rumour about shooting vortex spinners in the grand stairwell?” The children looked up at this, and Georgie squealed and said, “Yeah, I haven’t done that in years! Well, I think I did it last year. Come on!”

The rest of the night passed pleasantly and warmly. The whole party tried their hand at the Vortex Spinner game, Anne served up dessert wine and Mrs. Bell’s incredible trifle, the Gardiners felt themselves charmed by Georgie and her sweetness. Will and Lizzie were suddenly shy with each other. But there were snippets of conversation and a few shared glances between them that made Lizzie feel warm and interested. She had the sense of stepping foot into a new land.

Will saw them to the car when the evening was over. He carried an exhausted Andrew for the Gardiners, and had the sheaf of the children’s drawings sticking out of his back pocket. Will handed the boy over to his father, who got him safely strapped in. He shook hands with Edward, and nodded to Maggie. He held the car door open for Lizzie and watched her buckle herself in as Maggie and Edward questioned Stella about her seatbelt. He said softly, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She looked up and locked eyes with him. “Yes,” she said back in a quiet, breathy voice. He closed the door and waved them off.

All night until he finally fell asleep, Will asked himself whether or not he’d imagined the look in her eyes. He felt hopeful as he drifted off — that look was a heart opening up toward him.


	16. The Pemberley Party

The next morning, before Will came by for a site visit to the Gardiner children’s fort, Maggie had the idea of looking for a dress in Aunt Carol’s things. There were boxes and boxes of clothes that the woman had kept over the years — purses, jewelry, shoes, you name it. Lizzie and Maggie walked up to the storage room upstairs, where there were portable wardrobes, boxes stacked all the way to the ceiling, and furniture covered in sheets and quilts. “Aunt Carol had many friends in London and Paris, and she was forever going to glamorous parties. She also didn’t throw anything away, as you can see,” Aunt Maggie said, gesturing around the room. 

She and Lizzie began unzipping the quilted plastic wardrobes and sifting through the mothball scented clothes. “Ooof,” said Lizzie. “The smell!”

“Oh, there’s a 24-hour cleaners in the high street. I’m sure they can take care of it quickly if we find something good,” Maggie waved off the concern.

There were mod dresses from the 60s (“Kitty would love these,” Lizzie sighed over them). There were pantsuits from the seventies and eighties, and even caftans that had clearly been meant for beaches and cruises. “She was a really cool lady, wasn’t she?” Lizzie asked Maggie.

“So cool,” Maggie agreed, her voice affectionate. “Can you imagine being a young girl from a small village in the north and coming down to London to stay with an aunt like her? She bought me my first lipstick, talked to me about birth control, you name it. My mother didn’t know the half!”

Lizzie laughed over the idea of such conversations, and how they were the particular purview of an aunt. The two women continued to sift through the wardrobes, pulling the dresses that they thought might do.

Eventually, Lizzie unearthed a deep purple Ossie Clark dress from the 70s. She pulled it out of the wardrobe gently, sucking in her breath. “Auntie, look at this one.”

“Oh, gracious,” said Maggie, weaving her way through boxes and furniture to Lizzie. She let out a low whistle. “Let’s try this on you.”

“Oooh, it’s backless, I don’t know,” Lizzie hemmed.

“Come on, darling. You’re only young once. You can pull it off.”

“We’ll see. Let’s try it.” Lizzie stripped down to her knickers. Maggie unzipped the dress and untied the ribbon in the back. Lizzie quickly tied her hair up into a sloppy topknot, and Maggie slid the dress over her niece’s head. Lizzie smoothed it down over her body, pulling the slightly stretchy fabric over her curves, adjusting her breasts into the cups of the gown. Maggie smoothed, zipped, and tied, then had Lizzie turn so she could get a look at her. “There now,” she gasped. “Don’t you look gorgeous! Go look!” Maggie pointed to a mirror on the back of the storage room door.

Lizzie walked over to the mirror and regarded herself, letting out a little murmur. The dress fit her nearly perfectly. The deep purple looked good against her skin, and complemented her hair. The skirt was midi length, and flared out gently from above her waist. The back was completely open, exposing the fine muscles on her back, and coming back together in cap sleeves held together with a long thick ribbon of fabric. The cups held her breasts firmly, but allowed for the womanly sag of a fuller chest, which Lizzie thought looked pretty sexy. The fabric was thick enough and the supporting bow tied around her neck was firm enough that Lizzie wasn’t worried about the fact that she wouldn’t be able to wear a bra with the dress. She looked good. This was the dress.

“Honestly, Aunt Carol had style,” Lizzie said, looking over her shoulder into the mirror.

“She did,” Maggie agreed. “A family only gets one woman like that once every few generations. She’d be happy to see you so well turned out. I think you were meant to wear this dress, love. May I?” She reached up to Lizzie’s bun and pulled out the hair tie. She fluffed out her Lizzie’s hair and pulled some locks high above her left ear. “We could do some loose curls at the ends, a nice bold lip. I found some pearl earrings in here the other day, those would look gorgeous. You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

“Maggie, I’m not trying to be the belle of the ball here. Just trying not to look a fright as I wish the man happy birthday.”

“Mmm-hmm. How about I take it down to the cleaners? I can be back before Will comes by to say hello. You’ll need shoes. Maybe we can go to Derby on Saturday morning.” Maggie unzipped the dress slightly in the back so Lizzie could shimmy out of it.

Lizzie nodded and began to get herself out of the dress, untying the bow in the back. Will would be along shortly. She could hear the kids below arguing about whether stairs were the same thing as a ladder and wanted to get them in a bit of order. And avoid Maggie’s hints and kindly meant machinations, which were a lot less subtle than her aunt thought.

Will came by not long after Maggie dashed off to the cleaners with the dress. Lizzie invited him in for coffee, and the children regaled him with the new ideas they’d come up with in the last 12 hours. Lizzie distracted Andrew and Stella so Will could talk fishing with her uncle for a few minutes. Unable to put off the children any longer, Will and Lizzie let Andrew and Stella lead them out to the corner of the garden they’d selected for their masterpiece.

“See, we want it here because we can see over the garden wall and see who’s coming,” Stella said. “And we can play tricks on them,” Andrew contributed.

“I see, I see,” said Will, very seriously. “And you’re set on several stories, it seems?”

“There need to be at least 4,” Andrew told him.

Will pulled out his sketch pad and gave them a simple explanation of height to width ratios. Stella asked if they couldn’t just make the building wider, but Lizzie cut in and said, “I don’t think your Mum wants to give up that much of the garden.” 

Lizzie had come prepared. She found some dowels in the shed near the snug, and had some string in her own kit. She pulled out her reel tape measure and, giving Will a significant look, the two of them proceeded to measure out a 3 metre square with the dowels. Lizzie looped the string around the sticks and said, “This seems like it would be a good amount of space.”

The kids both groaned, but Will stepped in. “No, this is perfect! If you’re going to play tricks on passers by, they need to think there’s no way it could have come from a place like this. We can make it two stories. They’ll be _spacious_ stories.”

He knelt down and showed the kids how to draw to scale (sort of) on the graph paper. “Your new assignment is to work within that amount of space.”

“But it’s so much smaller!” Stella protested.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s not going to be as good,” said Will. “Plus, that’s your first lesson: sometimes the space and the budget have limits. You have to make it work.”

The weather was mild, and the children ran over to the wooden table near the house. Will and Lizzie laughed at each other. “Our first client meeting,” Will said.

“I’ve had worse,” she smiled up at him. They walked back to finish their coffee, and exchanged design war stories while the kids scribbled intently.

Lizzie changed her mind at least a dozen times on her drive up to Will’s party about whether or not her outfit was okay. Because she didn’t have any alternative options, it was her business to be satisfied with it. They did go shoe shopping in Derby the morning of the party, and Aunt Maggie had found some cool chunky black platform heels with ankle straps that completed the 70s look. Maggie gave Lizzie some loose curls at the end of her hair and pinned one side back behind her ear. Lizzie did draw the line at a “bold lip”. Aunt Maggie was as bad as Kitty and Lydia. “Come on, I hardly ever get to dress up and go out,” Maggie laughed. “Indulge me.” 

Lizzie pulled in through the iron gates of Pemberley and parked her car along all the others. Will had told her that there were several friends coming to stay for the weekend, and others who lived locally who would also come. Anne had pulled Lizzie aside when she and the Gardiners dined at Pemberley and gave her the scoop, and described what she and Georgie would be wearing to the party. She mentioned what kinds of guests would be there (mostly Will’s university mates and their wives, a few single people, and some cousins). She told Lizzie there would be a DJ, but she doubted there’d be much dancing, as it wasn’t a very big group and Will’s friends weren’t the dancing sort.

Lizzie unfolded her legs from her car (the heels gave her at least 4 inches of height and made her feel coltish) and walked up to the main entrance of Pemberley, as Anne had told her to do. She passed through the open vestibule doors and was met by a woman checking coats. All Lizzie had was her tatty pea coat and she was happy to get rid of it, as it didn’t match the dress. The woman gave her a ticket stub, which Lizzie tucked into one of Aunt Carol’s evening clutches. She nodded to the woman with a smile, took a deep breath, and walked through the door.

Once inside, she took in the grandeur of the main staircase (it looked quite different from the ground floor, without the vortex spinners). Georgie and Will were speaking to a pair of guests, and just down the hall, Lizzie could see the double doors flung open into what looked like the grand ballroom, and could hear conversation, laughter, and music. Lizzie walked over toward the Darcys and smiled as she looked at Georgie’s outfit. Her dark blond hair was coiled up atop her head with wispy strands artfully pulled out and framing her face. She wore a pale gold metallic dress with cap sleeves and a short skirt that Lizzie bet Will hated. Georgie looked beautiful and grown up. 

But it was the sight of Will that took Lizzie’s breath slightly away. He wore a form fitting black suit and a black shirt tucked in and unbuttoned without a tie. He also wore black leather trainers. But it was the sight of his handsome face, his smile as he talked to the couple in front of him. He looked happy and loose. Lizzie liked seeing him like that. The couple moved on toward the ballroom, and Lizzie walked up to them.

Georgie squealed hello, and the smile disappeared from Will’s face. Georgie grabbed Lizzie’s hands and pulled back. “Wow, what a beautiful dress! It’s vintage, right?”

Lizzie recovered from seeing the smile go from Will’s face like that. “Uh, yes. Actually, I didn’t bring any clothes that were meant for a party, but Maggie’s Aunt Carol had loads of gorgeous dresses she’d saved over the years. I pulled this one out yesterday — it fit just right, so it was the winner.” Lizzie smiled and shrugged. 

“Well, I love it,” said Georgie. She squeezed Lizzie’s hands and let them go. Lizzie took a step toward Will, looking him straight in the eyes. Will let out a breath and a little whoosh of air and smiled at her. She felt her cheeks pink up. Lizzie realized that he’d been holding his breath for her. Will took her hand and leaned down to drop a welcome kiss on her cheek. Lizzie shivered.

Georgie directed Lizzie toward the ballroom, where there were drinks and music. “Oh, and Annie is in there, too. We’ll be in soon after more guests arrive,” Georgie explained. Lizzie gave a nod and started to walk away as she heard a new group start to greet the Darcys. She looked behind her over her naked back with the ribbon trailing down along her spine to see Will looking at her, and she gave a little smile. _Thank you, Aunt Carol._

The party was actually quite fun, which to be honest, Lizzie had not expected. As Anne had predicted, nobody really danced, but the drinks and canapé were excellent, and the conversation surprised Lizzie with its quickness and brightness. Will’s Cambridge friends were a friendly and clever bunch, and Lizzie found herself chatting in small groups throughout the night. Sometimes with Georgie, sometimes with Anne, sometimes Will, who stood next to her whenever he could.

What Lizzie did not know was that it took every ounce of self control Will had not to follow Lizzie wherever she led, and wrap his arms around her, touch her all over, hold her face. She had looked so beautiful, so sexy, that he’d literally been without words for a moment when she first arrived. Had he acted foolish in the moments that Lizzie had walked in and Georgie had greeted her for the both of them? Will wasn’t sure. He was certain it didn’t matter, that he didn’t care. Elizabeth Bennet had come to his birthday party. She wasn’t afraid of, or repulsed by him anymore. Will didn’t know if his letter had done this, or if it was his own attempt at improved kindness and interest that had done the business. Maybe it was a mix of both. Whatever the reason, Will had no plans to throw this chance away.

Will tried not to sacrifice politeness to his other guests, and really, he was happy to see so many old mates and friends from London. He tried to balance conversations with them and staying nearby Lizzie. On a few occasions, he’d seen a couple of single mates (and one not single mate) engaging her in conversation, gauging Lizzie’s attraction to them. Will had been unable to help himself, the jealousy bubbling up inside of him with such speed that he’d had no choice but to insert himself into those moments, trying to sound calm. Something incredible happened, though, the last time Will did that. An architect Will had befriended over a few collaborations had Lizzie all to himself near the ballroom windows. Will could see his friend leaning in, for lack of a better word. Will had walked up to them, asking how they were enjoying the night, with zero backup plan for what to do after his opening line. 

Lizzie astonished Will by giving him a true, big smile, as though she was completely aware of what Will had been doing all night. Instead of embarrassing him, Will felt relief, because there wasn’t any teasing in the smile. There was reassurance. Lizzie moved over to Will’s side and tucked her arm into his, and seamlessly changed the conversation to include him. “Will,” Lizzie asked him. “I think you told me a little bit about working with green roofs. Adam here was just telling me about a project of his that will include a green roof and possibly a living wall. What was your experience like?” Will could feel Adam backing off.

The night settled in for Will at that moment. Lizzie took her arm out of Will’s after a few moments of conversation, but the two of them orbited each other for the next hour — pulled by the invisible gravity of attraction. Will couldn’t remember feeling this content or pleased in months, certainly not since the incident at Rosings, but if he was honest, even before that. Even before September, when he first met Lizzie Bennet. He was buzzed and happy. The lights were warm and low in the ballroom, helped along by dozens of groupings of flickering pillar candles in hurricane jars. The sounds of music intermingled with energetic chat and laughter. A beautiful woman in a dress Will wanted to untie with his teeth seemed to be into him, at last. 

And then Charlie and Caroline Bingley walked through the door.


	17. Every Hope

Lizzie and Will had been standing in a small cluster of his friends and Georgie when the Bingleys came through the ballroom doors. It was clear that Charlie was annoyed with Caroline, but when he saw Will and Georgie, the storm clouds on his face cleared and he pulled Georgie into a hug. “Good lord, Georgie! You look so grownup!” Georgie laughed and squeezed him back. “I won’t ruffle your hair no matter how much I want to,” Charlie told her. Caroline moved in to fawn over Georgie, and Charlie walked up to Will. He gave him a manly hug and several hearty claps on the back, and said “Happy birthday, Darcy! I’m sorry we’re so late. Caroline insisted on changing no less than three times, and I got a flat on the way up. We had to call RAC and it took ages.”

Will shook off the apology. “Thank you for coming up all this way. It’s great to have you.” Will couldn’t help turning to look at Lizzie, whose face was all pale confusion at seeing Charlie. It took Charlie a moment in the warm, romantic light of the candlelit ballroom to make out that it was Lizzie, and his face lit up at the sight of her. “Lizzie Bennet!” Charlie sang out. He walked over to her, picked up both hands, and kissed her on the cheeks. Lizzie let out a whoosh of air that she didn’t realize she was holding, and smiled tentatively up at Charlie. 

A peculiar hurricane of feelings was brewing in the air around Charlie, Lizzie, and Will. Charlie felt such longing when he saw Lizzie’s face — she and Jane _did_ share a few features, namely the same full, rosy-lipped smile. Charlie had no good answer about why Jane had never written or called him back, and had been full of self-doubt about himself and his ability to read a situation ever since he’d left for Asia. Seeing Lizzie gave him equal parts hope and heartache — maybe he could give her some insight as to what had happened? But on the other hand, it didn’t matter how it happened, just that it happened.

Will’s mind spun back to the last time Charlie’s name had passed between himself and Lizzie, and Will wanted to know if it was the same for her, if she was seeing their heated exchange in the blue bedroom at Rosings. He was filled with trepidation as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. 

For the second time this week, Lizzie found herself in the unusual position of being without words. She quickly leaned on logic. Charlie was either a complete and total idiot to think Lizzie would be happy to see him, or something else was at play. Lizzie did not think Charlie was an idiot. She thought he was careless, and over the past few months, she thought he might be cruel, but deep down inside, she wrote off the possibility of cruelty. So why exactly had he abandoned his relationship with Jane? There was an added layer of complication in the form of the baby now. As much as Lizzie wanted to read Charlie the riot act, she recalled two major points: she was at Will’s birthday party in front of dozens of strangers, and Jane needed to be the one to confront Charlie. Jane had to be the one to form a relationship with him for the sake of their child. Who Charlie did not yet know about. 

Lizzie was about to open her mouth to speak when Caroline Bingley entered the scene. 

Caroline had been chatting with Georgie, looking over the scene in the ballroom. She interrupted Georgie mid-sentence when she realized Lizzie Bennet was at Pemberley. _Lizzie Fuckin’ Bennet_ , Caroline said to herself. But to Georgie, she asked, “Do you know her, that one in the purple dress?”

“Who, Lizzie?” Georgie asked blankly. “Of course, she’s lovely.”

“And what’s she doing here? Are she and Will…?”

Georgie had felt the need to both go on guard but take the chance to tell Caroline that, yeah, Lizzie Bennet and her brother were on the road to being a _thing._ And that Georgie was thrilled about it. “Umm, not officially, but hopefully soon,” answered Georgie.

As bad as that was, now Caroline had a different problem. Charlie was now speaking to Lizzie Bennet, and Caroline’s secret of how she’d managed to put a stop to that idiocy between Charlie and Jane Bennet was dangerously close to being revealed. 

In retrospect, Caroline knew she had done a bad thing. She had no idea that Charlie would be so affected by it, in her defense. Charlie was always in love, and gold-digging social climbers were forever flinging themselves at her handsome, gullible brother. Things had always worked themselves out naturally before Jane Bennet. But the fact that Jane had made that huge commission off Netherfield, that Charlie had gotten Louisa to hand over Mummy’s favorite diamond ring, the fact that the idiot would have married her without a prenup (Caroline was sure). All of these things had caused her to panic. She’d felt reassured by Will’s read on the relationship also being problematic, and had felt right in the moment when she’d seized Charlie’s phone and blocked Jane’s number. 

However. Charlie had not been himself. He hadn’t gone out with anybody else since being back home, didn’t seem as happy, nor as talkative. Caroline was still certain had been Jane was playing with Charlie, ready to exploit the fool for all he was worth. But Charlie had loved Jane. Caroline now knew that for sure. Still, there was no reason or way Charlie would ever need to find out about the blocked number and nor how she and and Will had intervened. Until today, when Lizzie Bennet stood in front of her, Caroline felt that the secret could stay permanently buried. Caroline knew she had to keep Charlie and Lizzie apart so there was no chance of discovery. 

Caroline walked up to Lizzie and Charlie and in effort to put a stop to all conversation said, “Lizzie Bennet, my goodness! Don’t you just turn up in the most unexpected places.” 

Lizzie was determined not to engage with Caroline, so she merely nodded in greeting. “So, how are you both? It’s been some time since I’ve seen you. Not since — “ 

Charlie interrupted her here. “Not since the end of October for me, when I saw you at Netherfield.” 

Lizzie gave a little enigmatic smile. _Stay civil, Elizabeth. Do it for Fig._ “And how was your trip through Asia? Did you learn much of interest or use?” 

“Quite good, actually,” said Charlie. “But I really missed —“ 

“Oh, Charlie, look, the line’s cleared up at the bar!” Caroline squawked out. “Let’s go get a drink, it was such a long ride up here.” She all but yanked Charlie away from Lizzie. 

Will and Lizzie were left looking at each other while the music throbbed around them. Georgie, who had been watching the scene, wasn’t sure what had happened, but could see that the energy between Lizzie and Will had changed. She thought back to what Will had said about a disagreement between himself and Lizzie. Did it have anything to do with the Bingleys? Georgie wanted more than anything to get the pair of them back on track. Innocently, she walked over to them and said, “Will, I meant to say. You know what we never showed Lizzie the other day? The greenhouse!” 

“Hmm?” Will tried focusing on what Georgie was saying while still looking at Lizzie’s face. 

“The greenhouse! Since you work with plants and living things, Lizzie, I thought you might like to see it. It’s attached to the house. Our mum used to love it there.” 

“Oh, Georgie, Lizzie wouldn’t want to see the greenhouse right now.” 

Lizzie cleared her throat. “Actually, I’d love to see it. I wouldn’t mind a breath of fresh air. It’s gotten warm in here.” Lizzie needed to stay away from Charlie Bingley. She had no idea how to speak about Jane without revealing the baby, and she knew Charlie was about two sentences away from asking after her sister. Lizzie never thought she’d be grateful to Caroline Bingley, who had hauled Charlie away to get alcohol. _Bless her,_ Lizzie thought ironically. 

Will felt his heart calm a bit. Even if Lizzie saw this as a window to yell at him about how he’d interfered with Charlie and Jane, Will would be happy to take it, to begin to fix it. He knew they needed to really clear the air about Rosings. He’d just been taking the past few days as a precious gift of a fresh start. “Erm, certainly,” Will said. “We can pop in there for a look.” 

“We’re going to do cake in 30 minutes,” Georgie said, looking at her elegant little wristwatch. 

“I’ll have him back in plenty of time,” said Lizzie. “Will, lead the way.” 

Lizzie was grateful to Georgie for giving her another opportunity to escape Charlie Bingley. And, to be frank, have a few moments alone with Will. All night, Lizzie had felt him moving toward her, and she wanted to let him know that she wanted him to. She’d grabbed Will’s arm when talking to Adam, given him smiles all night, and received his smiles back. It made her warm to think of it. They walked in mostly silence toward the greenhouse, which Will told her was just on the other side of the caretakers’ wing. Occasionally, Will would point out a feature of the house he thought she might like. Mostly what views outdoors you could see from particular windows. Lizzie felt herself internally settle back down. 

They came to a glass paned set of French doors through which Lizzie could see leafy shapes in the dark. “Ready?” Will asked her. 

“Of course. This is a busman’s holiday, don’t you know,” Lizzie said in a mock serious voice. Will laughed and opened one of the doors for her to walk through. Right away, the smell of moist earth hit her nose and she took in a huge breath of air into her lungs. “Ahh,” she let it out. “That has to be one of my top three favorite scents right there.” 

She heard Will give a low chuckle, and felt her skirt move slightly as he brushed past her to turn on the lights. “You’re a cheap date, Elizabeth. All a man has to do is get you near some dirt.” Lizzie gave a nervous little giggle, and then heard a click. Suddenly hundreds of globe lights strung artfully across the greenhouse lit up the room with a warm, golden glow. The light was not overwhelming, but warm and inviting. Lizzie let out a gasp as the light revealed the plants and trees within. She looked over at Will and he smiled at her. “Go on, you lead the way,” he said. “You know more about what’s in here than I do.” 

It was a white wrought iron greenhouse, not as large as Lizzie thought it might be, given the rest of Pemberley’s size, yet she couldn’t quite see the other side from where they stood. There were shades covering the panes of glass in the ceiling and shutters along the upper windows, presumably to preserve the warmth of the sun from earlier in the day. Lizzie squinted up at the shades and Will told her that they were mechanized and on a schedule. “About ten years ago my parents renovated the greenhouse. This was added onto the manor in the early 1800s. Nobody in the family took much interest in the place in my early lifetime. Then as my mother started to garden, it became her mission to fix this place up and modernize it.” 

“Your mother sounds like she had a true talent for balancing the past and the present,” Lizzie told him, examining the green glossy leaves of an orchid that was part of a larger display. “You must have inherited that from her,” she smiled, looking back at him. 

They walked around the loop of the greenhouse, Lizzie’s heels clacking on the uneven stone floor. “Who cares for it now, while you’re all away?” There were potted lemon trees interspersed with exotic ferns in the center of the oblong room, and wrought iron tables full of plants. There was a fountain tinkling merrily somewhereout of sight. Lizzie swore she could smell jasmine wafting toward them from somewhere nearby. “We have a gardener who comes twice a week to look after it. She’s part of the team that takes care of the Pemberley grounds,” Will answered. He could have watched Lizzie look through the various plant groupings for a hundred years. He leaned against a column and watched her crouch down in her lovely dress as she examined a flowering vine. He was grinning at her when she stood back up. 

“What, Mr. Darcy?” Lizzie said, grinning back at him. “You look like the Cheshire Cat right now, Sir. Why so mischievous?” 

“No mischief at all,” said Will, still smiling. “You’re adorable. It makes me smile.” He couldn't believe he’d said that. No subterfuge, just the straight truth. 

“Adorable, huh?” Lizzie said, walking back over toward him. She had a grin on her face. She joined him in leaning against the column, keeping up her smile. 

Will’s smile disappeared and was replaced with something else, and Lizzie’s own grin faded out as she watched him. “Elizabeth,” he said in a husky voice. “May I?” 

Lizzie nodded, her eyes glued to his. He brought his hand gently to her chin and pulled her close to him. The second Will’s lips touched hers, Lizzie could feel her body melt into the kiss. She’d been wanting it all night, unsure of how it would come, if it did at all. 

Lizzie reached her arms up and placed them around Will’s broad shoulders. He probed her mouth gently, as if he was afraid she might protest like last time. _But this time is so different, Will, can’t you feel it?_ Lizzie wanted to ask him. After a moment, Will slid his hands away from Lizzie’s face and reached for her beautiful naked back. He ran his hands smoothly from her shoulder blades down to her waist, pulling her closer to him. Lizzie gave a little moan into Will’s mouth and with a grunt, he increased the pressure and intensity of his kiss, slipping his tongue in her mouth, sliding one hand up the velvety skin of her back. Will moved his mouth down to her neck — he’d been wanting to kiss her there since the party at Netherfield. Lizzie craned her head backwards, leaning into his hand on her back, and heard herself whimper softly. She looked up at the warm lights, the leaves over their heads as she felt Will’s mouth moving down toward her chest then back up to her mouth. 

This time Lizzie was the aggressor, pulling his mouth from her neck to her mouth, guiding him with both hands on the sides of his face. She pulled back slightly and sighed his name once, then had the satisfaction of hearing him grunt, “Elizabeth”. They slowed down, and finally, pulling his mouth away, he rested his forehead against hers. Will and Lizzie caught their breaths for a few beats, and she pulled back to look him in the eye. “We’d better get back to the party,” she said smiling at him again. “We’ll miss your birthday cake.” 

He looked down at her, a small smile playing on his lips as he examined her lovely eyes. “I’d be happy to stay in this room for several days, actually,” Will said. 

“But what about your presents?” Lizzie asked in a mock indignant tone. 

“This little dress is honestly the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten in my life,” Will said, running his hand up and down her sides, stopping and stroking his thumbs over the sides of her rib cage. Lizzie let out a small gasp as he did. Will leaned down and gave her one more fast kiss, taking in that uniquely Lizzie Bennet smell of clean, flowing water. She took his hand and said, “Come on. I don’t think Georgie or Anne would forgive me if you weren’t there to blow out your candles when they roll out that cake.” She smiled and pulled him back to the French doors. 

Lizzie took a moment to stop in the bathroom, telling Will to go ahead to the party, that she’d be a moment or two behind him. Once inside, she readjusted her dress, which had become a bit disheveled, and finger combed her hair back into order. There was no makeup to fix, and she congratulated herself on avoiding the “bold lip” Aunt Maggie had suggested yesterday. 

She finished tidying herself up and went into the ballroom just in time to see a gorgeous three tiered cake being wheeled out and lit with tall, spindly candles. She joined the cluster of people gathered around Will, and added her voice to the chorus singing “Happy Birthday”. Will smiled around the group, and leaned down to blow out his candles. Lizzie wondered what he wished for. Will wondered if his wish was too obviously written all over his face, but decided he didn’t care if it was. 

Lizzie hadn’t stayed too much longer after cake. She managed to successfully avoid Charlie for the remaining hour she spent at Pemberley. She spent a few moments with Georgie, telling her how lucky Will was to have such a wonderful sister, and wishing her luck with the rest of her term. She kissed Anne’s cheek and said she’d see her in a few weeks at Rosings for the Collins project. Before she left, Lizzie caught Will’s eye. He was surrounded by a group of mates all deep in a laughing conversation. She gave him a little wave and a big smile, mouthing _Happy Birthday_ to him, then she turned and walked out, giving him one last view of The Dress. Will hadn’t left the group to chase after her. They would see each other again soon, Lizzie knew. 

The next morning, she gave Aunt Maggie a watered down summary of the party, and Maggie had the good grace not to crow at any point, especially not over the kiss. Uncle Edward came down the stairs as Lizzie was fixing herself coffee and toast. The children were up already and playing in the garden. She had offered to watch Stella and Andrew while her aunt and uncle went and had breakfast at a little cafe they wanted to try in the village. Lizzie ran up and changed out of her pyjamas and the Gardiners set out once she came back down, calling to the children to behave for their cousin. 

The morning was balmy and clear, with the sun already promising to show up strong throughout the day. _Spring_ Lizzie sighed to herself, and brought her cup of milky coffee outside to watch the children play. She felt her pocket buzz with a phone call. Hardly anybody she knew called, the Bennets were texters, as were most of Lizzie’s friends. Pulling out her phone, she saw that it was her father calling. Her stomach dropped. “Daddy? Daddy, what is it?” Lizzie heard her voice rise. 

“Lizzie, love, take a breath. Jane’s in hospital. She was in a car wreck early this morning on her way back to London from Meryton.” 

“Is she okay?” Lizzie stood up, her hand clamped to her mouth to hold back a sob. She watched Andrew chase Stella through the grass and around a tree. “The baby?” Lizzie choked out. 

“It was a bad accident, love. Her car is completely wrecked. The baby is okay right now, but she did have some signs of preterm labour. They’ve got her on drugs, but she’s panicking a little, and that’s bad for the baby.” Her father’s voice sounded calm and steady, and Lizzie loved him for it, as her own pulse raced. _Hold onto his voice, Lizzie. Just breathe._

“Is Mum in there with her?” Lizzie knew her mother was the opposite of a calming presence and she started to pace. 

“She’s taking a break. Mary’s in there right now. But she wants you, Lizzie.” 

“Tell her I’m coming. I’ll leave within half an hour.” 

“Good girl, drive safe. I can’t take another —“ Mr. Bennet’s voice broke and he didn’t finish his sentence. 

Lizzie let her sob out and clamped her hand over her mouth again to stop it. She took a deep breath through her nose. “Okay, Dad. We can do this. What hospital?” 

Lizzie shot another look at Andrew and Stella to be sure they were safe and ran inside for a pen and paper. She took down the details she needed, and told her father she loved them all. “Tell Jane I’m coming, Daddy. Tell her I’m coming, and she and the baby will _be fine_.” 

Lizzie ended the call and sank to the floor, her hands pressed over her face, letting the horror of the news wash over her. She let it out for a moment, and then bounced up. She needed her aunt and uncle to come back home so she could get back to London. Lizzie picked up the phone with trembling hands and was about to hold a shaking finger to the touch screen when Will walked through the door. Lizzie saw his shocked expression and let out a whimper, and felt her face crumple again. 

“Good God, what’s wrong?” Will gasped out. He went to her and took her by the elbow, and led her to the kitchen table, kicking out a chair and lowering her down onto the seat. He watched her in silence with a look of tender compassion on his face. He ran to the other room and found a box of tissues. “Elizabeth, Lizzie,” he said, stroking her shoulder. “What is it?” 

“It’s Jane!” Lizzie finally choked out, gaining control of her breath, the tears subsiding. “She was in a car wreck.” 

Will’s face went pale very quickly. “Oh, no.” 

Lizzie remembered how much those words must terrify Will, given the nature of his parents’ death. She rushed to say, “She’s in hospital right now, it was a bad one, the car is totaled, but she’s survived. But the baby...Jane is pregnant. She started to go into preterm labour. She’s stable right now, but...I need to go to her!” 

Will felt a wave of relief at hearing Jane was not dead, and yet...“She’s pregnant?” He asked. 

Lizzie felt she had no way out but through. “Yes. She fell pregnant the last weekend she and Charlie were together.” 

“So, she’s…” 

“Just five months next week.” 

“Why...why hasn’t she told Charlie?” Will looked confused and somewhat stricken. 

“Well, he never called her back, never texted that whole time he was in Asia. She figured he’d just gone off her.” Lizzie looked out the window at the kids, still running in circles round the garden. “She didn’t realize she was pregnant until the middle of January. We didn’t figure it out until after I saw you at Rosings,” she added. 

Will didn’t say anything, just looked off in the distance. Lizzie drew her breath in sharply. “It _is_ Charlie’s, you know,” she said coldly. 

“What? No, it’s not that. I’m just surprised. I would have thought she’d have gotten in touch by five months.” 

“Well, Charlie broke her heart, Will. And I think she’s been dreading having to talk to a man who doesn’t really care for her about how to divvy up childcare.” 

“But there’s also child support.” Will stood up and took a few steps around the kitchen, unsure of what to do with himself as he received the news. 

_The gold-digger thing again,_ thought Lizzie grimly. The unjustness of that term ever have been applied to Jane made tears prick sharply at Lizzie’s eyes. Of course Will thought Jane would have seen a pregnancy as a golden ticket. “Look,” she said, letting out a shaky breath. “I need to get to London. I have to go.” 

“You can’t drive yourself in this state,” said Will. “Let me drive you.” 

“Oh! No, thank you. That’s a kind offer. But no. It’s your birthday. And, no. You don’t have to.” 

“But I’d like to.” _Try me, Lizzie,_ Will’s heart pulsed. _Test me, and I’ll pass._

She just shook her head. “I’m going to call the Gardiners, they’re just up the street. Then I’ll be on my way. It was…great to see you again. Thanks for your hospitality.” 

Will just looked at her. _Hospitality?_ She clearly wanted him gone, again he felt that change in the air between the two of them. “Look, let me get out of your way,” he finally said. He wasn’t sure what else to say in the moment. Lizzie saw him to the door, and he turned to look at her. “I’m so sorry about Jane. I hope she’s okay. Will you let me know how she’s doing?” 

Lizzie softened a little and nodded. “Of course. Thank you. And I mean it. Happy birthday. I hope you have a great new year.” Will gave her a serious nod and left. 

Lizzie felt her heart squeeze, and allowed herself 10 seconds of a good self-pitying wallow. He could kiss her, he could desire her, but to Will, neither of the Bennet sisters could be much more than gold diggers, could they? Lizzie pulled out her phone and dialed Maggie. She was wasting precious time. 

When Maggie and Edward came back to the cottage, Lizzie had broken into tears again. Andrew and Stella were none the wiser, fortunately, and were still busy in the garden, wild after so many months cooped up over winter. Maggie and Edward pulled her inside the kitchen and hugged her. “Look, let’s get you to London, sweetie,” said Edward. 

“I’ve already packed everything,” Lizzie said. “I just needed you to get back for the children, and now I can be off.” 

“No, no. I don’t think so,” Aunt Maggie. “On the way back, we decided Edward will drive you. The kids and I will close up the cottage and drive back home tomorrow morning, as planned. But you call me and keep me updated, okay?” 

Lizzie nodded. She had secretly been dreading driving. She and her uncle loaded up her car and Edward got behind the wheel. They were off not 30 minutes after Lizzie received her father’s call, and rolling into the hospital’s car park about 3 hours later. They hadn’t said much on the drive, her uncle simply letting her cry when the need overtook her, saying, “It’ll be okay, sweetie. It will.” 

Lizzie raced into the hospital, asking at the welcome station where to find Jane. Edward jogged behind her and they made their way to Jane’s room. Edward was panting a little, but Lizzie had enough adrenaline that she felt she could fly without breaking a sweat if she needed to. The Bennets were all waiting in a small room just around the corner from Jane’s room, and Edward stopped there. Lizzie didn’t stop until she made it to the door knob of Jane’s room. She stopped and took a breath, centering herself. Jane didn’t need anybody’s panic right now. 

Lizzie peered around the door as she opened it and saw Jane in the hospital bed, its back inclined, her sister bruised and dozing. Lizzie walked in and quietly placed her purse and coat on the chair in the room, and sat on the edge of the bed. Jane woke at the pressure of Lizzie setting down on the mattress, and she smiled a beatific little grin. “Lizzie Lou, I’m so glad you’re here,” she sighed. 

Lizzie didn’t sob as she wanted to. Instead, she moved to nestle her body next to Jane’s. Take care not to disturb the oxygen tube running to Jane’s nose, nor the broken wrist in its brace on the opposite side, Lizzie spooned Jane’s side and stroked her hand. Lizzie was listening to Jane’s heart rate beep along on the monitor, and could hear it slow down slightly. They didn’t need to exchange words, Lizzie knew they just needed to be. And Jane already felt a little bit safer. 

The next morning, Jane’s medical team was encouraged. Lizzie had spent the whole of yesterday with Jane, leaving only to grab food in the cafeteria and step out briefly so other family members could come in and visit. Lizzie also stayed overnight in the chair in Jane’s room, lulled to sleep in the uncomfortable piece of furniture by the reassuring beat of Jane’s heart. The other Bennets went back home, and promised to return in the mid-morning. Uncle Edward kissed his niece and went home to open up the house for his family to return the next day. 

Not long after Lizzie had awoken in the miserable chair, two doctors and a nurse walked in, immediately picking up Jane’s chart, and beginning to minister to her. Lizzie stayed quiet, lest they boot her out. One of the doctors began speaking as she looked at the chart. “It seems your baby is responding well to the drugs, Miss Bennet. Contractions have stopped, and while we’re going to keep you here and monitor you for at least another day, we feel good about your status.” 

The other doctor said, “We’ve contacted your obstetrician, and we agree that a minimum of two weeks of bed rest would be a good start, and then we’ll reassess. But if you continue to respond well to the meds, there’s every hope of your pregnancy staying on track. Just keep your stress low, and get healed from the bruising and bone break.” 

Lizzie and Jane both blew out relieved sighs, and the doctors nodded to them both and left the room. The nurse stayed to take vitals and check in with Jane, and Lizzie felt the reassurance that can only come from being in a capable woman’s hands. The nurse finished adding her notes to the chart, gave Jane’s foot a gentle stroke, and helped her to the toilet. Lizzie set to work texting relatives about Jane’s progress, and organising what Jane would need to be on bed rest for two weeks. She paused and realized she needed to tell Will Darcy that everything was okay. Lizzie put her hand on her chin and thought for a moment. _Hi, Will. Jane is out of the woods_ , she typed out. _Thank you for your kindness yesterday morning. Hope you are well, L_. 

The nurse brought Jane back from the toilet and helped her settle into bed. Jane looked exhausted already, but thanked the nurse gratefully. Lizzie filled a bin with hot water and took a rough hospital issued flannel to the table at Jane’s bedside. She grabbed a bottle of lavender soap from her own toiletry kit and squeezed a bit on the cloth. Jane groaned with pleasure at the hot cloth on her face and neck, and Lizzie moved as gently as possible. Somebody, most likely Kitty, had already gathered Jane’s hair into a workman-like topknot that still looked fairly tidy even a day later. The bruises on Jane’s right side, the driver’s side were beginning to show. Lizzie moved with excruciating slowness and lightness. “Thank you, Lizzie,” Jane whispered, her eyes already closed, and fell back asleep as Lizzie put the bath things away. 

Lizzie stepped out to the cafeteria and brought back coffee and breakfast for herself. The shining sun streamed in through the hospital’s windows and Lizzie felt her shoulders loosen a little. Right now, it was looking okay for Jane. As long as her sister and the baby were okay, all would be well. They could cope with whatever they needed to get Jane through. 

Lizzie walked back through Jane’s door and stopped short. Kneeling at the side of the bed, where Jane still lay sleeping, was Charlie Bingley, holding Jane’s good hand, with his head bent in what seemed to be anguished prayer. Lizzie stifled her gasp and looked on. 


	18. Interference Revealed

After Lizzie had escorted him out of the Gardiners’ house, revealing both her distress and Jane’s pregnancy, Will stood out in the road, rattled by this new piece of information he held in his hands like a seashell. He knew if he really looked at the thing, held it up to his ear to listen for more, examined its subtle folds and patterns, that he was partially responsible for the fact that Charlie had a child waiting to be born, and knew nothing of it. 

And now that child and its mother were in danger. 

Will walked to his car, the sounds of Stella and Andrew playing and calling out to each other receding in the distance. He put his fingers on the handle of the door, staring off into space, but really seeing Lizzie’s anguished face, the grief that wracked her body. She had not authorised Will to say anything about Jane to Charlie. But Will knew the truth deep down in his bones: Charlie was not the same since he’d left Jane. What that meant, Will didn’t know. But it wasn’t as bleak as Lizzie said — Jane having to negotiate child care with a man who didn’t care about her. Charlie _did_ care about Jane. And from everything Lizzie said, Jane cared about Charlie. And with that, Will’s mind was made up. He had to fix what he could, even if it meant Charlie would hate him forever. Feeling spurred into action, he opened the car door and fired up the engine.

It was nearly eleven. Georgie had organised a hike on the Dovedale Circular Walk. Most people had opted to get on the road back after the enormous breakfast buffet Mrs. Bell had laid out for the houseguests. But others agreed to finish out the weekend with one more hike. The Bingleys were of the latter group. Georgie had ridden up to the hike with a couple of their Fitzwilliam cousins, and Will had used the opportunity to sneak over to see Lizzie. How glad he was that he hadn’t been even 15 minutes later! She might have been able to pull herself together and reveal nothing, or she may have already been gone. Will sped up to the Dovedale car park and estimated how far behind the others he would be at this point. He eased off on the gas when he realized: once again, he had no idea how to begin. 

Will had sat in his car for a few moments once he arrived, and thought about what he needed to tell Charlie: the truth of his interference, and the fact that Jane needed him now. He had to think on what to say about the pregnancy, or rather, how to share what little he knew. There was something to the story that Will couldn’t understand: what Lizzie had meant when she said that Charlie had never gotten back in touch with Jane, never texted or called back. It seemed highly unlikely that it had been an intentional move on Charlie’s part. Will had decided not to get distracted, but just to get to Charlie and begin the work of a conversation.

He jogged up the path along the River Dove and crossed the bridge into Milldale village. Up ahead, he saw some coats he recognized from his party — Georgie and his cousins. He ran up to them and said, “Hey, sorry I’m late! Had to go back into the house for a phone call,” he lied, panting a little. “Do you know where Charlie is, Georgie?”

“Yeah, just ahead a bit. They can’t have gotten much past the village.”

“Great. Sorry, gotta run and catch him!” Not bothering to stick around to see the questioning looks most likely adorning his family’s faces, Will raced off.

Not five minutes later, he caught Charlie alone, just past the outskirts of Milldale. Caroline was far ahead hiking with Adam. “Darcy!” Charlie said in surprise. “Where’ve you been hiding all morning, man?”

Will held up his finger to indicate that he needed to catch his breath. He really didn’t —he was a fit runner. But he was nervous. Finally, as his breath evened out, he knew he was out of excuses. “Long story, Bingley...Nevermind that.”

The two took a few companionable steps together and Will finally blurted out: “Charlie, do you still love Jane Bennet?”

A look of surprise crossed over Charlie’s face and he schooled it into submission, saying, “Och, what does it matter? She blew me off.”

“The thing is, Charlie, I don’t know that she did.”

Charlie looked at Will in astonishment. “And how do you know that, mate?” Will couldn’t quite make out the undercurrent in Charlie’s voice, but he pressed ahead.

Will took another breath and described what he’d done to get Charlie to Asia. How his hope was just to get Charlie to cool down, how he’d been worried that he was moving too fast. “Remember Mark Elliott?” Mark was a friend of theirs from university who got married after a whirlwind courtship and was now signing away millions of pounds to his soon to be ex-wife.

Charlie’s voice went very calm. “What about him is similar to my experience with Jane, in your opinion?”

“I...I was just worried. I’d never seen you like that with a girl before,” Will said. “I was worried that she didn’t love you as much as you seemed to be in love with her. And I was worried about the financial transactions that you’d already had between you. I just...it all seemed so plausible. And you’re so generous…I just figured if I could slow it down, it would be better for you,” Will was floundering.

“And that’s like Mark’s situation how?” Charlie pressed. 

“Well, it seemed like Claire was only after him for his money in the first place.”

“And you think those were Jane’s motives. She couldn’t possibly be interested in me for who I am. Nor would I have the good sense to see if she was a good person. So what changed?”

Will looked ashamed. “I got to know Elizabeth better. It’s a long story, but she figured out that I’d tried to slow down your relationship to Jane. And she let me have it.”

Charlie laughed to himself. “That lass is a spitfire.”

“She told me that Jane cared for you very deeply.”

“And why believe her, Will? Why is her word to be trusted over my ability to handle my own fucking relationships?” Charlie’s voice remained calm, but Will recognized the dangerous edge.

“Because...I thought I knew better. And Elizabeth showed me that I know fuck all. I’m so sorry, Charlie. I’m so goddamn sorry.” Will stopped walking, but Charlie kept going for a few steps, then stopped and turned around.

“You must not think very highly of my intelligence,” Charlie said, still dangerously calm.

“It wasn’t that. We’re just so different. I can’t make the leaps of faith you can. I’m...I’m the one who’s not terribly smart when it comes to this stuff.” Will started walking to catch up to Charlie, but his friend stood still. 

“Well, perhaps you were right. She never texted me back. My calls just rang and rang. I figured you were right, what you told me in the pub before I left the country. I didn’t try any harder after those first couple of weeks. She didn’t feel for me what I felt for her.”

Will frowned and looked down at the ground for a moment. “That’s odd,” said Will. “Elizabeth seemed to imply that Jane’s messages to you were never answered.”

“But how…” Charlie trailed off.

“I don’t know,” Will said. “But the first thing I want to tell you is that I was wrong, and it was a gross overstep, and I could understand if you never forgive me for it. I would deserve to lose your friendship over this. It was beyond the pale.”

Charlie let out a long breath. “I’ll need some time on that one.”

“I understand completely. But there’s more.”

“Christ, what else could you have possibly done?” Charlie stopped again and looked at Will.

Will stopped and looked at the ground, then up at Charlie, debating. “I’m not sure if I should say any of this, because I don’t know if I’m authorized. But I do know that you do still seem to love Jane. And from what Lizzie says, she seems to still have very strong feelings for you. So I think that makes it acceptable.”

“Alright, then. Out with it, and consequences be damned.”

“Jane fell pregnant the last weekend she was with you, it seems. And that puts her at not quite five months pregnant…” Will clocked the stunned expression on Charlie’s face, but kept going. “This morning I went to see Elizabeth, and she was in tears. She’d just gotten a phone call from her family. Jane was in a very serious car accident this morning. I don’t know that Elizabeth would have revealed so much to me if I hadn’t stumbled on her right after she got the news. I only found out about the baby this morning, then I ran up here to find you.”

Charlie let out a strangled sound, “Is she okay? The baby, is the baby okay?”

“It sounds as if she’s in stable enough condition, but the baby is in danger. She’s gone into preterm labour, but they seemed to have stopped it for the moment. Again, stable for the moment. Lizzie ought to be on her way down right now, I left her not an hour and a half ago.”

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Will!” Charlie shouted. “I should have been with her. I should have been with her this whole time! Not cavorting in Asia, not hiking the bloody Peaks with a lying piece of shite like you!”

Will said nothing. They were far enough away from any other members of the party that he knew they weren’t being overheard. Or so he thought. The shout must have carried, because from up the path, Will saw a flash of pink fleece running toward them. That would be Caroline.

“I know. But I’m going to get you to her, Charlie. Let’s head back down. I have a plan.” Charlie’s face was furious, but he followed Will. 

They turned and began back down the path, but stopped when they heard Caroline’s running footsteps bearing down on them. “Charlie,” she gasped out. “I’m really really sorry.”

Now Charlie looked at his sister in surprise. “For what, Caro?”

“About Jane. I didn’t think any of this would happen, I didn’t think you’d be so upset.”

“What did you do to do Jane?”

A look of realization came over Caroline’s face, that Charlie hadn’t cracked the code yet. She was silent, considering her options, when Charlie said, “Caroline.” He spoke in a calm, insistent voice. “What did you do?”

Her face went from defiant to resigned. In a small voice that surprised Will, Caroline said, “I blocked her number in your phone. Right before I dropped you at the airport. She could text and call your number, but it wouldn’t get through. Same if you tried to contact her.”

Charlie sucked in his breath and bent down, putting his hands on his knees as if he was about to throw up. He took a breath or two, and pulled his keys out of his pocket. He untwisted his car fob from the ring and handed it to his sister. “There you are. Get yourself back home. I’m going to Jane.”

“But how...Charlie, I’m _sorry_! I never meant to hurt you. I was trying to _protect_ you.”

“Well, you did hurt me, Caro. You think I’m a child who can’t manage his life. You made me believe a woman I loved wanted nothing to do with me. You helped to break my heart twice— once for Jane, and once for you and what you must think of me...God, how could you _do_ that to her? Where’s your sense of decency!”

Charlie took a few steps back down the path, his sister staring open-mouthed at his back. Birds were chirping, and in the distance, they could hear the rushing river. The loamy smell of earth and spring were thick in the air. Charlie turned suddenly around and looked at both Will and Caroline. “You know, you could have just let it be. I wasn’t hurting anybody. Jane certainly wasn’t hurting anybody. So what if I made a mistake, being with Jane? That’s what life _is_. Stupid mistakes, leaps of faith, getting it wrong, but sometimes getting it perfectly and completely right. You could have just let it fucking lie, both of you, let it play out, even if you think the relationship didn’t stand a chance in hell. Instead you interfered in the most ridiculous and arrogant ways possible! How can I ever trust either of you again?”

Will had the decency to hang his head in shame, while Caroline’s indignance began to show in her face. Charlie waved his hand at her in disgust and started to walk back toward the cars. He paused after a few steps and said, “Will, come on. Let’s get moving.” Will followed behind quickly.

The two men walked in silence. Will couldn’t remember feeling this type of contrition before in his life. They passed Georgie and the Fitzwilliam cousins, who looked at them in surprise. “I’ll text you,” he said quietly to Georgie as he passed. He shrugged apologetically at his cousins, but offered no explanation.

After about ten minutes of nothing but birdsong, whistling wind, and the sounds of their footsteps tramping down the path, Charlie said, “For what it’s worth, I know what you and Caroline did isn’t the same crime.”

Will stayed silent, waiting.

“I know that if Jane and I had a chance to cool things off a little, it probably wouldn’t have changed our relationship. Six weeks in Asia, however fucking idiotic your actions were, wouldn’t have harmed us the way Caroline did,” Charlie took a pause and then continued. “Maybe we would have grown stronger, maybe we would have petered out, I don’t know. I still do love her, Will. I’m sure that sounds stupid to you.”

Will cleared his throat and finally found his voice. “No, it’s not stupid. I think I understand love a little better now than I did in September. I at least understand how bad I am at it.”

“No, no. You’re not bad at it. You’re obstinate. And you’ve had some disappointments when it comes to trusting others. I know you did what you did out of love and concern. It was just batshit insane!” Charlie started to laugh.

Will felt himself smile. “Don’t forgive me, Charlie. I can feel you starting to cave.”

“I don’t forgive you! Not yet. But if Jane will see me again, if she’ll let me be around her, I bet that would finish the job for me.”

“God, Bingley. You’re just not built for resentment, are you?”

“I’m not, no. I don’t know what to do about Caroline, though. I’m not built for resentment, but I could murder her, seriously. I don’t know what to do about that one.”

“Well, you only found out about all of this within the last half hour. Let’s get you to Jane first.”

Charlie’s face turned serious. “Right. What’s your plan?”

They made it back to Will’s car and drove back down to Lambton, to the Gardiners’ place. Will was hoping not everybody had left Lambton, that perhaps somebody was left in the house who could tell them at which hospital to find Jane. He saw the same car that the family had driven up to Pemberley for dinner, and he knew he’d made the right calculation.

Charlie looked nervous as they walked back to the kitchen door. “The Bennets must all hate me. How are we even going to explain this?”

“I don’t think anybody could hate you, mate. If anything, Maggie Gardiner and the others will think I’m a right bastard when they hear my part in all this.”

Charlie paused with his hand on the garden gate. “Lizzie Bennet doesn’t seem to have that problem. She knows about it all...what’s going on there?”

Will paused for a moment, considering how to explain it all. “She’s working on a project with my cousin Anne. The project is in Kent, near my aunt’s estate, and Elizabeth came to stay for the week in early January. I was there visiting, and I, God, I don’t even know how to explain it. I came onto her. I told her I had feelings for her. But I also told her a lot of stupid shite, too.”

“Such as…”

“Long story. I’ll tell you another time, and you can have a good laugh at my idea of hitting on a woman. That night she called me out on two things, one completely right, and one completely wrong. Richard was there, and he let slip how I’d extended your trip in Asia. That’s the one she was right about. The one she was wrong about was George Wickham.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot she was seeing him. Obviously, I don’t know the whole story, but I know there was bad blood between you and Wickham.”

“If I’m honest, Charlie, Wickham really fucked me up. He was meant to be my boyhood friend, my father loved him and thought of him as a second son. But he was a snake. He nearly cost us the firm. And it was our own fault for falling for it, for not taking precautions where he was concerned after my Dad died. It made me sour, made me suspicious of anybody outside my circle. I’m sorry I put that on you and Jane.”

“Help me get Jane back, like I said, and all is forgiven.”

“Anything within my power,” Will said, and he opened the gate for both of them and they walked through to see the Gardiners.

Maggie Gardiner had listened quietly and thoughtfully to Will’s history of his interference in Jane and Charlie’s relationship. She sucked in her breath when Charlie told her why he hadn’t been in contact with Jane, about what Caroline had done. She prepared cups of tea, and put her hand thoughtfully to her mouth as she heard their recital. Will admired the way she didn’t interfere with the telling of the story, just let the two men tell her why they were there. Finally, she let out a long breath, and said, “Well, you’ve told me your parts, so let me tell you what I know of Jane’s.” She cleared her throat and took a sip of her tea. “I don’t know anybody on the planet with a kinder heart than hers, nor a heart so forgiving. So you should know that going in, Charlie. She would probably forgive you most anything. But now there’s a little baby involved. And we are all praying that she and that baby are okay. So far they’re stable. But stress is the last thing either one of them needs if they’re to survive this in tact.”

“That baby is half yours, Charlie. So you have every right to go and see her, to make sure the child is okay, and do what you can to help the little thing through this. But it will be critical for you to take care of Jane’s heart right now. Because it was broken. It sounds like yours was broken in the same way. I’m not as kind as you. I would throttle your sister, were she here.”

Maggie turned to look at Will. “I can’t quite reconcile what I know of you from Pemberley to what you’ve told me today. Lizzie was nervous when she learned how close Pemberley is to Lambton when she first arrived here. She gave me a rough understanding of why. What doesn’t make sense to me is why you’re so different now, Will. Is it an act?”

“No, Mrs. Gardiner. No.”

“You can still call me Maggie, Will. No need to put on the hair shirt yet,” she told him. Charlie laughed, and it broke the tension.

Will gave an apologetic little smile. “It’s a long story, complicated. I can try to describe it, though. I’ve had some disappointments that have left me ungenerous. When I first met Elizabeth, I was determined not to be pleased and I’m pretty sure she knew that. The problem is that she’s Elizabeth. Only an idiot could fail to be pleased by her. By then, it was too late. She’d written me off. I tried, uh, asking her out and she shot me down. Again, long story. But she told me what she thought of me, and it wasn’t what I wanted to be, and it’s not who I am. I promised myself that if I ever saw her again, I’d try to do better, be more myself.”

Charlie punched Will lightly in the shoulder. “I didn’t know any of that,” he said to Will. To Maggie, he added, “Will actually is a nice bloke. It doesn’t always come out right, it’s not easy for him.”

“Well, thank you for explaining it to me. It sounds like there’s more to the story between you and Lizzie, but I appreciate your candor,” Maggie paused for a moment. “Lizzie can be a hothead, for lack of a better term. I’m sorry she caused you any grief. I’m sure she is, too.”

“She’s changed me for the better,” Will said simply. “I owe her.”

The three of them were quiet for a moment. “So, now, what’s next,” Maggie said. “Let’s think about what’s best to do.”

Will lent Charlie his car to get down to London. Maggie advised him not to go see Jane until the next day. Charlie told Will he couldn’t stand the idea of staying under the same roof as Caroline, so Will gave him a key to his place and told him to take whichever guest room he wanted, forever how long he wanted. Charlie drove to the Bingley townhouse in London, loaded up a few bags to take to Will’s. He had a hard time settling down, and was comforted by a text Maggie sent to him late in the evening: _Jane and the baby are still stable. That’s a good sign._ Late that night, Anne dropped off Will on his townhouse doorstep, after they had taken Georgie back to school. Once Will got settled back in, the two old friends opened beers and started streaming _Star Trek_ , a shared favourite of theirs, something they'd bonded over years ago . Will felt relaxed for the first time that day, and thanked his lucky stars that Charlie was willing to even consider forgiving him.

As soon as the next morning broke, Will found Charlie was sitting at the kitchen island, shaking his leg vigorously, nursing a cup of tea. “Do you think it’s okay to head over at 8?” Charlie asked.

“Maybe wait until 9,” answered Will. 

“I’m going to go take a run on your treadmill, then. That okay?” Charlie said.

“Yeah, yeah, go for it,” said Will. Charlie ran upstairs and changed, then raced down the stairs to the small home gym. Will felt just as nervous. 

Will showered and got himself ready for work. As he was adjusting his tie, Charlie stuck his head into Will’s bedroom. “Heading out, mate?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah, you take my car to see Jane. I’ll take the tube.”

“Sure?” Charlie asked, and Will nodded yes. “Cheers. Alright. I’m going to hop in the shower and clean up. Then I’ll go.” Charlie all of a sudden seemed to be stalling.

Will stopped what he was doing and said, “Charlie, I think it’s going to be okay. I know that neither you or Jane put yourselves into this mess, and I’m sorry for my part of that. But I really do think you’re going to be okay as a pair. Now go shower and get dressed. Then go over there. It’ll be half nine by the time you park. That’s good timing.”

Charlie nodded, and went off to his room. Will sighed. _Please, God, let this work. Undo what I did_.


	19. Spring

Lizzie watched Charlie for a moment at Jane’s bedside. Jane was still completely zonked from the last 48 hours, and Lizzie wasn’t surprised that she was sleeping through Charlie’s visit. Still, it occurred to Lizzie that Charlie must be scared at Jane’s unresponsiveness and she ought to ease his probable terror. She waited a moment for Charlie to raise his head, and then cleared her throat and said softly, “Charlie?” He turned to look at her, and she saw his eyes were bright with unspilled tears.

She set her coffee and breakfast down on a table just inside the door and gestured to him to follow her out of the room. Charlie followed her and Lizzie pulled the door closed so they didn’t disturb Jane’s sleep. “Is she going to make it? Is the baby okay?” Charlie choked out as soon as they were in the hallway.

“Oh, Charlie, they’re okay for right now. It’s fine. She’s only sleeping. They’re going to be well,” Lizzie said. He let out a wail and through pure instinct, Lizzie pulled the tall handsome man in for a hug, hiding his face toward the wall from passersby. Every ounce of anger she’d felt toward him over the past five months dissipated in the face of his sorrow. She stroked his shoulder and found herself murmuring, “It’s okay, Charlie, they’ll be fine. Shh, shh.” He let out a torrent of tears that lasted for half a minute, then pulled himself together. “I’m sorry, Lizzie. I’m just so relieved. I only found out about the baby yesterday.”

“How did you get here, how did you know?” Lizzie asked in wonder.

“Your aunt told me. She called ahead to your parents and asked them to put me on the visitor’s list.”

Charlie could have only met Aunt Maggie through Will. Which means Will had to have come clean about the whole thing. Lizzie felt a thrum in her chest that she didn’t quite know the meaning of. “You met Aunt Maggie?” Lizzie said.

“Yeah, Will came running up the hiking trail in Dovedale and found me. I think it must have been just after he left you. Is this why you were avoiding me at his party?”

Lizzie looked embarrassed. “Oh, you could tell that’s what I was doing, huh?”

Charlie laughed. “I was sure we were better friends then that, yeah.”

“I was afraid I might reveal something about the baby. It was Jane’s conversation to have with you. For what it’s worth, she didn’t figure it out until mid-January. And then I think she just couldn’t bear the idea of talking to you about it. She thought you didn’t care, because you never wrote her back.”

“I thought the same. None of her messages ever got through. I just found out yesterday that Caroline blocked Jane’s number in my phone, right before I left for my trip.”

“What the bloody _hell_!” Lizzie was shocked, almost too shocked to be angry. “Well, she went a bit above and beyond just blocking Jane’s number, I’m afraid. When Jane couldn’t get through to you, she texted your sister. Caroline texted back that you were fine, and then she sent a picture of you with some girl in a bar. I think that’s why Jane stopped trying after a bit.”

Charlie’s eyes flared, and then his eyes became full of sadness. “There was never any girl in any bar on that trip…I don’t know what to do about Caroline. I don’t know how she and I will come back from this.”

They were both thoughtful and quiet for a few moments. “You don’t have to know what to do about that right away. Focus on what’s right in front of you,” said Lizzie.

“Yes. Jane, and the baby. What is the extent of her injuries? And the baby?”

“The baby was in distress because of Jane’s injuries, and there was some preterm labour. They stopped that successfully with drugs, thank God. Jane’s got some internal and external bruising, then you saw the broken wrist — the arsehole who ran the light made it away without a scratch. All things considered, for how bad the crash was, she’s been lucky. It was really just the baby. They’re saying two weeks of bed rest, then they’ll reassess. But it’s looking okay.”

“Thank God,” breathed out Charlie. “Do you think she’d like to see me?”

“I’m pretty sure she’d love to see you, Charlie. Maybe do you mind if I prepare her for the good news that you’re here?”

Charlie nodded, his expression suddenly nervous. “She’ll be glad, Charlie. I’m sure of it,” Lizzie said, patting his hand. “Wait here for a moment.” She smiled and went in to wake Jane. Lizzie hadn’t felt the need to press Charlie about his feelings, nor his intentions toward Jane. They were written all over his face.

Lizzie went to Jane’s bedside and sat down alongside her, stroking her good arm to wake her. “Janie, wake up,” she said softly. 

Jane’s eyelids fluttered half open, and she gave her sister a slight smile. “Ugh, Lizzie. I’m so tired. I think all the adrenaline wore off from yesterday because I can barely keep my eyes open today.”

“You want a drink of water?” Lizzie asked, and Jane nodded. Lizzie handed her the cup with its bendy straw and was silent and thoughtful as Jane sipped. “Janie, it’s a very very long story, but I’m going to summarize a few things, because you need to know, finally.” Jane nodded through her sleepy lids and waited.

“When I went to Kent, you know that I saw Will Darcy, and you know that he told me he was interested in me. One of the reasons I shut him down so hard is that I found out through his cousin that Will sort of fabricated and extended Charlie’s trip to Asia to last for six weeks. Will did it because he was worried that Charlie was falling too hard and too fast for you, and he was scared you didn’t feel the same regard in return. But frankly, Janie, his reason was that he thought you were a gold digger. Or rather, he was worried you might be, what with the commission on Netherfield and all. Total bollocks, not based on reality.”

Jane’s face grew grave, but she didn’t speak, only nodded for Lizzie to continue. “I didn’t tell you any of that when I came back, because honestly, I didn’t know what good it would do. It would hurt you deeply, and maybe it wouldn’t change anything, because Charlie hadn’t been in touch with you. Then this week, well, you know I texted you that I’d gone to Pemberley a couple of times, and that I’d met with Will. Charlie showed up with Caroline to Will’s birthday party, and I sort of froze up. I left the party after about an hour of avoiding Charlie. I didn’t want to reveal anything about the baby — it wasn’t mine to reveal, and I was afraid I might say too much.” Lizzie took a breath, and studied Jane’s face again before continuing.

“Will and I hit it off this week, despite everything. He forgot some of the nasty rubbish I said, and I put aside the nasty rubbish _he_ said. He came to see me yesterday morning at Maggie and Edward’s, and he stumbled upon me right after I got the news about you. I was so upset I couldn’t hold back — I’d literally just gotten off the phone with Dad. I let it slip that I was terrified about the baby. Will left after just a few minutes, and I think he must have run and found Charlie and told him about the accident, and the pregnancy.”

Jane’s face turned from somber to thoughtful, and she began to rub her hands over her bump. Lizzie took a breath. “Today I found out that the reason Charlie never returned your calls or texts is because he didn’t get them. Caroline Bingley blocked your number in his phone before dropping him off at the airport for his flight to Singapore. And I have a feeling she must have texted an old picture of Charlie in a bar with some girl.”

Jane pressed her fingers to her mouth and looked out the window, quiet for a bit. Finally she let out a slow breath and turned back to Lizzie, grabbing her hand and said, “I hardly know what to say. I don’t even know how to feel.”

“I know, darling. I’m sorry I’ve dumped so much information on you all in one go.”

Jane smiled ruefully. “How do you know that, about the number being blocked?”

“Because Charlie is here right now, just in the hall.” _I think Will sent him,_ Lizzie thought, but did not add. 

At this news, Jane’s wan cheeks grew pink, and a lovely smile started to spread over her face. Lizzie continued “I wanted to prepare you. I didn’t want you to be stressed out or shocked by what he might say. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you any of this earlier. Well, the parts I knew. I didn’t think revealing any of it would have done any good. Now that we know Charlie was in ignorance…”

“Oh, poor Charlie! He must think I was ghosting him!” Jane’s voice sounded panicked, but Lizzie started to laugh. “What, Lizzie!”

“You’re the only person on the planet who could see outside their own suffering in this moment, Jane. I don’t know how you do it,” Lizzie’s laugh wound down into a chuckle, then a warm, loving smile. “Do you want to see him?”

"I do. Oh, God,” said Jane, smoothing her hair and wiping the sleep crust from the corners of her eyes. “How do I look?” 

“Like the best person in the world,” Lizzie said. She gave Jane’s shoulder a light squeeze and stood up to go get Charlie. 

Lizzie had let Charlie into the room and he entered quietly, smiling shyly. Jane’s smile only got bigger and toothier. Lizzie picked up her considerably cooled coffee and breakfast sandwich (was she _finally_ going to get to eat?) and slowly backed out of the room. As she pulled the door closed to a crack (the nurses did not like the doors to be fully closed), she spied on the scene for a second. Charlie pulled up the chair to Jane’s bedside, took her good hand in both of his and kissed it. Jane laughed and guided his hands to her stomach and helped him rest it there. Lizzie walked away, relieved and hopeful. 

Jane and Charlie fell right back into their relationship, in a sense. They were both as interested and sweet toward each other, but they slowed down in another sense. Now they had a new person to plan for. They took their time talking about goals and hopes for the future. Jane gave him an extra key to her flat, and Charlie came over every day during her bedrest, took her to the obstetrician for follow-up appointments to check the baby’s progress after the accident. Lizzie felt she could step back a bit from helping care for Jane during her pregnancy with Charlie there. 

Jane gave her parents a summary of what had gone on between herself and Charlie, and told them an abbreviated version of what had kept the two of them apart. Mrs. Bennet was ecstatic that Charlie was back on the scene -- “He’s not a scoundrel after all!” she’d crowed to Lizzie one day as the two of them prepared dinner. Mr. Bennet was more circumspect about The Return of Charlie. “Let’s just say I’ll be watching him, Lizzie. It doesn’t bode well that neither Jane nor Charlie fought very hard for each other, to figure out what was behind the sudden split in their relationship. Of course, what is there to be done about it? I have a house full of women with minds of their own -- there’s nothing for it but to laugh at it all.” 

Lizzie couldn’t quite agree with that sentiment -- there was plenty to do besides laugh at the ups and downs of one’s children’s lives. But here they were. Tom and Franny Bennet had raised five very different daughters. They all had mostly good luck, and made decently good choices with the opportunities they’d had in life so far. If standing back and letting it all happen was how the Bennets had gotten there, so be it. Mrs. Bennet fretted and schemed, Mr. Bennet laughed and narrated. Twas ever thus, even with the happy return of Charlie. 

Lizzie went to Jane’s flat one day toward the end of the bed rest for a visit. She brought a stack of newer novels to leave with her sister, and she found Charlie wearing an apron and cooking from a book called _Eating While Pregnant: A Weekly Guide to Best Developmental Nutrients, Made Delicious!_

_“Bed rest going well, Charlie?” asked Lizzie._

“It’s going great, Lizzie -- tonight we’re having a lovely B vitamin-rich pasta. Will you stay to dinner?” 

Lizzie gave a thumbs up and called, “Sounds delicious, I’d love to!” as went into Jane’s bedroom. Jane only chuckled and smiled at Lizzie’s bemused expression. “It makes him happy to feed us, and I don’t have to cook. I just have to listen to calculations about essential fats and their impact on brain development every now and then.” Jane was resting against several pillows with a throw blanket over her legs. She’d been working on her laptop, but set it aside when Lizzie walked in. 

“That’s not a horrible trade-off,” Lizzie said smiling and shaking her head a little at the sounds of Charlie singing off-key to himself in the kitchen. “How are you feeling, Janie?” Lizzie plunked herself down in the cushy chair in the corner. 

“Quite good! We were at the doctor’s yesterday. Last week, you know, we were doing a little bit of light walking outside, and she said that it seemed beneficial and certainly didn’t hurt anything. So we kept that up this week, and she suggested returning to normal work activities, as much as possible, and then to check in with her. So all things considered, I’m happy with that.” 

“Will you do client tours?” Lizzie imagined how tiring that would be. 

“I’m going to give it a go. A couple I worked with a few years ago is looking again. I’ll start with them...Charlie has asked if he can drive me about. I told him I’d think about it. He’s nervous.” 

“And you’re not?” Lizzie exclaimed. 

Jane shrugged. “I have to start some time. Are you off to Charlotte’s project next week?” 

Lizzie accepted the change of subject graciously. “Yep. I’m off to Kent on Sunday afternoon, to work on Charlotte’s place. We’re installing the pavers and tiers for the garden first thing Monday morning.” 

“Oh, lovely. It’s supposed to be gorgeous next week -- you’ll have good weather. Will Charlotte and Bill be there?” 

“No, I don’t think so. They’re still staying at Charlotte’s flat, which they’ve got until September. It’ll just be me and Anne deBourgh. Of course, I assume Lady Catherine will be there. I think all told I should be there for about --” Lizzie was interrupted by the high-pitched ring of the buzzer to Jane’s flat. 

Jane looked confused. “Who could be calling now?” Charlie yelled, “I’ve got it, my Love,” and they heard him set down something metal in the kitchen and move to the intercom, and say in a quieter voice, “Hullo?” 

The tinny response came as the sisters looked at each other, their conversation paused: “Hey, Charlie, it’s Will. I’ve got those change orders you need to sign.” 

“Oh, cheers, I forgot about that. You want to come up?” said Charlie, then Lizzie heard the digital squawk of the “enter” button. 

Jane moved the lap blanket to the side and began the work of getting herself up off the bed when she caught the look on Lizzie’s face. “What’s wrong?” Jane asked, concerned, but confused. 

Lizzie had been frozen the second she heard Will’s voice over the intercom. Her thoughts raced from _Oh, shit, what am I wearing_ (faded skinny jeans with holes in the knees from wear and tear, not designer rips, and an old Oxford shirt from school she couldn’t bear to part with) to _What do I say, what do I say?_ (fuck her if she knew -- “I still like you, why haven’t you gotten in touch?” or casual nonchalance in the form of “Hey, what’s up?”). 

At Jane’s question -- what was wrong with her, after all? -- Lizzie snapped out of it. She only hissed quietly, “I haven’t seen him since I told him about you and the baby, back in Lambton. We just...dropped off.” Lizzie must have had a panicked look in her eye, because Jane said, “Deep breath. Come on, Lizzie Lou, in for five seconds, out for five seconds.” 

Nobody in the world but Jane could order her about like this, so Lizzie complied. After she let out the breath, she did feel clearer. “Now, go on,” said Jane, gesturing to the mirror over her bureau. “You look like your normal self, like a beautiful, fierce little tiger. Go look.” Lizzie stepped to the mirror and smoothed down her hair and licked her lips. “Very good,” said Jane. “Now just go out and act normal. You’ll be okay.” 

They heard Charlie open the door to the flat for Will, and heard the two men chatting over the papers Will had brought with him. Jane stepped out of her bedroom first. “Jane, you look so well, so much improved. I’m so glad,” Will said. He had a bouquet of beautiful white tulips that he held out to Jane, smiling, when he saw Lizzie come out of the bedroom behind her sister. Will’s face went red. _Act normal_ Lizzie instructed herself. What even was normal for her and Will Darcy? 

She stepped out from behind Jane who took the lovely paper-wrapped flowers and gave Will a light peck on the cheek. “Thank you so much, Will, that’s so kind. I’m feeling much better, and the wrist is healing well. You didn’t have to bring flowers again, but it’s lovely that you did.” 

Will regained his bearings. “Ah, yeah. Well, I wanted to. My mum always said flowers made her feel better faster,” he said, and Lizzie thought to herself, _Well, that’s adorable. Fuck._. 

There was a pause in the conversation and a sudden acrid smell hit the air. “Oh, bollocks, the garlic,” said Charlie, and he lunged back toward the kitchen. “It turns out garlic burns in like 60 seconds, but I forgot about that,” he informed them as he moved. Jane chuckled and followed him, carrying her flowers like a Miss Universe Pageant winner. Lizzie turned to Will and shrugged with a smile and laugh. 

“Hello, Elizabeth. It’s good to see you again,” Will finally began. “I’m sorry for interrupting, I didn’t know you were visiting.” 

“No, not at all, you’re not interrupting anything. I came to drop off a stack of books for Jane, and I’ve been invited to stay for dinner,” she smiled. “That is, if we don’t wind up ordering takeaway. I don’t know how bad it is in there,” she nodded her head at the kitchen. 

They were quiet again, and both began speaking at the same time. “How’s Georgie?” Lizzie said at the same time Will said “Has your work picked up for the season?” 

Lizzie forced a little chuckle. “How’s Georgie? She’s more interesting than work.” 

Will smiled a little for the first time since he realized she was in the flat. “Quite well. She’s already planning for half-term. She’s finally going to visit New York. My Fitzwilliam cousins are going, and they said they’d take her along.” 

“Oh, that’s exciting! Lucky Georgie. She’s finally going to see the Big Apple.” 

“Do they really call it that?” said Will curiously. 

Lizzie shrugged. “Maybe New Yorkers don’t? Other Americans do. My mum does. Maybe it’s a dorky Mum thing to say. Georgie will have to give us intel.” 

They were quiet again, and mercifully Jane came back out from the kitchen, still holding her flowers. “Okay, crisis averted,” she laughed, but she picked up on the uneasiness between Lizzie and Will. She let the tulips hang down in her good hand, alongside her thigh and looked at the two of them. 

Charlie came out of the kitchen, letting out a huge sigh. “Alright, that’s the white bean ragu sorted. Will, can you stay for dinner? There’s plenty. B vitamins are good for everybody, you know.” 

“Uh, no, actually. I’ve got dinner plans,” Will answered. 

“Okay, right,” said Charlie. “Do you want me to sign the paperwork now, or I can give it to you tomorrow?” 

“I may miss you at home tonight,” Will said. “If you want time to look them over, you could drop them by the office tomorrow?” 

“No, no, now’s fine if you’ve got a few minutes?” 

Will nodded at Charlie, and the two men walked over to the dining table. Lizzie felt like wanted to sink into the floor and hide forever. 

“Let me take those flowers, Janie,” she said, gently pulling the bouquet from her sister’s hand. On her way, she grabbed the slightly decaying vase of narcissi from the coffee table. Jane made to follow her, but Lizzie only shook her head slightly and said, “Give me a minute.” Lizzie knew it was imperative that she not let a single tear fall, because if she did, she’d become a sloppy mess. And if Jane so much as looked at her with that sympathetic Jane face of hers, she’d probably start to sob instantaneously. 

Lizzie listened to the sound of Will talking about a design change to door frames and the adjustment in cost. She heard Charlie murmur in agreement, and Jane’s gentle voice asking a question. She set the flowers down on an empty stretch of the kitchen counter, and put both hands down and bent at the waist, letting her breath out. She had to get out of here. She took another breath and stood up quickly, getting a small headrush. She wondered if her suspicions in Lambton were right. He could kiss her, he could desire her, but something about her prevented him from going beyond. Why bother with all the sweetness in Lambton only to act like she was not worth it now? Her chest felt like it was cleaving in two. 

Lizzie threw the old flowers out, and quickly rinsed out the vase. Grabbing a pair of scissors, she trimmed the lovely tulips and baby’s breath they were packed along with to fit the vase, and look pretty from every angle. She wiped off the bottom of the vase for any errant water so it wouldn’t leave a mark on the coffee table, and brought it out to the living room, studiously angling her face away from the dining table. Lizzie stepped quietly and quickly toward Jane’s bedroom, where she pulled on her coat and grabbed her purse. She took a few more gigantic, slow breaths to gird herself, then smiled and stepped back out into the main room. “Hey, Jane, Charlie? I’ve actually got to go. I just remembered I’ve got a really early meeting in the morning, so I ought to head back to Meryton so I can head out early for that.” 

Lizzie saw the look of amiable disappointment on Charlie’s face, the look of naked empathy on Jane’s, and the stoic calmness on Will’s and knew she had made the right decision. “Are you sure you can’t stay?” called Charlie, standing up from the papers spread across the table. 

“I’m sorry, gotta pop off,” she smiled. “I’ll see you when I get back from Kent!” and she was out the door, with one last look at Will’s face as she pulled it closed behind her. 

Lizzie hurried down the steps to the street, and quickly made her way down the street in the direction she’d parked her car. It was beautiful outside, the kind of early spring evening that could make you feel whole again. Lizzie paused on the sidewalk near her car, but not too far beyond, felt the pull of Ravenscourt Park. She’d rather spend half an hour pulling herself together in the warm evening sun with the breeze shimmying the newly greening branches of the trees than driving home, squinting through her tears. 

Lizzie crossed the road and entered the park near the tennis courts. She decided to loop around the glass houses and make her way back to the car, but after a while, she stopped and found a bench. Sinking down with a sigh, she nestled into her coat, jamming her hands in her pockets, trying to burrow down and disappear. Her phone buzzed in her pocket alongside her hand, and she pulled it out. A text from Jane lit up the screen. _Are you okay?_ Lizzie wanted to text back, “Yeah, fine. Just sad that Will Darcy is over me, and furious with myself for being sad about it.” Instead she wrote back, _Yeah, just got overwhelmed. I’m fine. Enjoy dinner, and have fun making out with Charlie tonight._

Jane wrote back, _Hilarious, Elizabeth. Text me when you get home, and I love you._

Lizzie let out a puff of air and looked around her. A few kids were skateboarding just down the path, and couples walked their dogs and pushed babies in strollers. A young pair of teenagers were splayed on a blanket, snogging each other into the ground. Lizzie looked back down at her phone and searched for the last (and only) messages she and Will had exchanged. She’d told him that Jane was out of the woods that day she left Derbyshire, and he’d written back almost immediately, _Thank God, I’m so glad._ A few hours later she wrote back _I hope you had a good birthday, thanks again for having me and the Gardiners to visit._ Then nothing, not ever again. Until seeing her tonight unexpectedly at Jane’s. He clearly hadn’t wanted to see her. And he had dinner plans, apparently? Lizzie imagined a string of leggy, big-busted women with thick, curling manes. Rich women, who brought something to the table. Women who would keep him out all night. 

Suddenly she launched herself off the bench, startling an older lady meandering down the path with her rolling walker. Lizzie made off down the path, walking vigorously, shaking it off, letting the spring evening take her in its arms. _If he’s satisfied with regretting me and what could have been, instead of trying to really know me and be with me, if Pemberley was a fluke, what’s there even to be sad about? I need to forget him._ Stalking through the park, letting her lungs fill with balmy air, and thinking about her upcoming projects, all the things she’d do this spring, the friends she’d see, the men she might meet, she could almost convince herself. It was a big world. Who needed Will Darcy? 


	20. Brave Enough

Early Monday morning, Lizzie met Anne DeBourgh on site at the Collinses’ property. The house was framed out, and they were beginning the finishing stages on the exterior this week. Lizzie had only seen a few pictures from Charlotte of the house in its various stages of work, but now she could see it mostly done for herself, and it was beautiful. “Anne,” Lizzie breathed, as they left their cars and walked up closer to the house. “It’s gorgeous. Really perfect for them!”

It had elements of a fine Georgian country cottage, but with modern materials for siding and light fixtures. Lizzie was happy about her design for the garden -- she could see the two blending together perfectly. She’d had the drawings of course, but seeing it now in person, Lizzie knew she and Anne had made beautifully complementary choices. “Thank you, Lizzie! I love how it came out, too. I’m going to run in and see the project lead. I’ll come see you in a bit down in the garden.”

Lizzie checked in with her crew, running over the plans, and watching as the Bobcat was unloaded for the heavy lifting of gravel on the slope along the retaining wall where they’d build the stairs. Lizzie got that shiver of pleasure she often got when playing in dirt. She pulled out her tablet and started checking the orders for plants, which wouldn’t go in until May. Lizzie hadn’t had the courage to ask Anne about how Will was doing when she sat to dinner with the deBourghs last night. Lizzie didn’t suppose Will would be showing up on this site visit. Why would he? She shook her head and turned back to work.

After a couple of days in Kent, the hard work of shaping the landscape had been accomplished. She really owed the Collinses, actually. This was going to be a beautiful project for her portfolio, one where she’d been given free reign, a generous budget, and her clients had trusted her. Anne told her that the house ought to be finished in about six weeks, and Bill and Charlotte would be able to move in whenever they were ready after that. Charlotte’s job was going to allow her to work remotely, and Bill’s office in south London was easy to access whenever he had to go in. Charlotte had called Lizzie the night before and given her some good news -- Charlotte was just over three months pregnant now. 

“Oh my God, Char!” Lizzie squealed. “I’m so happy for you! Do you already have plans for the nursery at the new place?”

“Yes, Bill is so excited. He’s having a decorator come in. He’s happy whenever he can do anything for me, and now the little nugget.” Lizzie could hear the happiness in Charlotte’s voice, and she got a tear in her eye as she pictured a devoted man caring for Charlotte, her deserving, clever friend. Bill was okay after all. Charlotte told Lizzie more about their plans, and even some idea names. 

By Thursday, Lizzie’s team had completed the work and she returned to Rosings in the late afternoon, exhausted and pleased. Lizzie had been given a different bedroom this time for her visit, and she found herself wondering if she was staying in the bedroom where Will might have slept last time. It was hard not to picture him in the rooms at Rosings, or when she was on site at Bill and Charlotte’s, remembering the way he’d continually dropped in on her while on site. Was she sleeping in the same bed Will slept in once? When he “bumped into her” at the Collinses, was he trying to get to know her better? Was she simply too spiteful to notice it? Despite her vow to forget about Will Darcy, he crept in at inopportune moments -- the sure weight of his hands on her body, the looks he’d given her in the ballroom at Pemberley. His mouth on hers, the essence of him in her nose, on her taste buds. When she got lost in these recollections, she’d shake herself out of it.

When Lizzie walked in through the back entrance at Rosings that Thursday afternoon, she encountered the indomitable Mrs. Baker, who told her that tea would be served in the conservatory in half an hour. Lizzie smiled her thanks and raced up to her room to tidy up. She put on a simple cotton dress and cardigan, because it was Rosings and Lady Catherine, after all, and she couldn’t just show up in jeans and a jumper. After a quick wash, she was on her way to the conservatory. As she entered, she heard the gentle insisting voice of Anne saying, “Mummy, you shouldn’t interfere.” Before either woman noticed Lizzie, Lady Catherine let out a harrumphing noise and said, “You young people would never be settled without the guidance of your elders. Please remember that, young lady. Oh, Miss Bennet, there you are. Do sit down.”

Lizzie joined them at the lovely wrought iron table set out with a sumptuous afternoon tea of miniscule sandwiches sliced with a precision that put Lizzie in mind of a laser cutter. There was Victoria sponge (Lizzie smiled as she remembered Mrs. Baker inquiring about her favorites), and an ostentatious silver tea set that Lizzie tried not to gawk at -- she couldn’t believe somebody would actually use anything that gorgeously cumbersome. Before Lady Catherine could open her mouth, Anne quickly said, “So, Lizzie, what’s next for you? What’s your next project?”

The women spoke pleasantly for the next half hour about favorite projects they’d done, plans for travel, the blooming English spring. Lizzie watched with amusement as Anne played a type of offense with her mother — the moment there was a possible pause where Lady Catherine might push a line of conversation her daughter did not wish for, Anne would gracefully insert a question or opinion that was sure to distract her mother. Anne was tiny and quiet, but a skilled warrior. 

Finally, Mrs. Baker came to clear the tea things, and Lady Catherine took her chance. “The weather is quite fine today, wouldn’t you say, Miss Bennet? What do you think the temperature is?”

“Oh, the sun’s warmed up the day quite nicely. I’d say maybe about 19 or 20 degrees?”

“Excellent. Perhaps you would favour me with your company? I would love to ask your advice about something in the garden. Just us,” she said, shooting a look at Anne. “I believe you said you needed to call the firm before tea, didn’t you, Anne? You mustn't be remiss in your duties. Come, Miss Bennet.”

Anne rolled her eyes. She was routed. Lizzie smiled at her with a barely perceptible shrug. Whatever Lady Catherine had to say was fine. Lizzie could take it. She could only assume it was some officious advice on the proper way for a woman to run a business. She took Lady Catherine’s offered arm and they walked through the door of the conservatory into the great labyrinthine garden just beyond the house.

The two women walked in silence for a bit, and Lizzie surveyed the lovely grounds. The garden was only just beginning to come to life, and she longed to stoop and pull back the old growth over the new shoots, but allowed herself to be pulled along by her companion. The early evening sun shimmied through the newly budding trees, and a light breeze ruffled the skirt of Lizzie’s dress. 

“Something quite interesting has occurred to me, Miss Bennet. I believe I may have made a small mistake when you were here in January,” began Lady Catherine.

“Oh?” Lizzie kept her eyes forward on the path, breathing in the scent of Lady Catherine’s woodsy perfume, as the two were still joined at the arm. “What kind of mistake, Ma’am?”

“Well, I was quite sure you would do well for Richard.”

Lizzie’s eyes left the path and settled on Lady Catherine. “Do for him? In what sense?” She didn’t like where this was headed.

“Well, you danced so beautifully together. And you’re both quite brave. There is a great similarity of character between the two of you. And I think your children would be lovely,” Lady Catherine said. 

“Oh, Lady Catherine, I don’t —“ Lizzie began.

“Hush,” said the older lady. “Oh, my. Look at that gravel path. It’s in dreadful shape, entirely washed out! I must speak to the gardener about that...Well, as I was saying. I was sure that you and Richard must make an excellent match.”

Lizzie only nodded her head at Lady Catherine, thinking to herself, _What the hell, might as hear the rest of this._

“But then I began to think differently. I heard of your visit to Pemberley. In fact, based on some conversations I overheard between Anne and William, I believe the two of you have formed the beginnings of an attachment to each other.” Lady Catherine stopped and looked at Lizzie’s now flaming face. “Yes, that’s what I thought. Is it not so? When did this begin?”

Lizzie cleared her throat and tried to compose her voice to be even. “Lady Catherine, this is quite personal.”

“Come, Miss Bennet, we can speak frankly to each other.”

Lizzie finally huffed out a sigh. “To be honest, I have liked him almost since I met him. I didn’t understand that, yet, though. It took me quite a long time to work out the puzzle.”

“So I thought,” she said. “Well, what exactly is stopping the two of you?”

“Really, Lady Catherine.”

“Miss Bennet, I asked you a question, and I expect to have my curiosity satisfied. What is stopping the two of you? Is he not suitable in your eyes?”

Lizzie sighed. “There were times when I thought he might not be, actually. We’ve had misunderstanding after misunderstanding. But now I think he might suit me better than any other man I’ve ever known.”

Lady Catherine nodded sagely. “William has taken on much since his parents passed. Then there was that dreadful scandal with the firm. He’s never been a very playful man. That’s when I began to think differently about who you might be best suited for. Richard is very playful. He doesn’t need an equally playful wife. Prudence in marrying used to be strictly financial. Now I believe prudence in marriage is all a matter of temperament.”

Lizzie started to chuckle. “Lady Catherine, you are the truest architect I’ve ever known. You even construct sound relationships between people. But, to be honest, I think he may have moved on.”

“Moved on! To whom?” Lady Catherine gave her a disturbed look.

“I don’t know. He would barely speak to me when I saw him last. And he said something about dinner plans. So although he may have liked me quite a lot at some point, something has convinced him that I’m not a good match.” The two started to walk again, and Lizzie realized that Lady Catherine was not finished yet. Lizzie dislodged her arm and looked at Lady Catherine straight on. “Please, madam, whatever you do: please don’t speak to Will about this. As I said, this is private.”

“But I am his aunt! I’ve stood in the place of his mother for years now, and his happiness is of paramount concern to me.”

“But you are not _my_ aunt,” Lizzie said gently. “And I don’t know that I could bear the humiliation of this interference. I need him to come to me because he wishes to come to me, not because somebody convinced him it was a good idea.”

The older lady gave Lizzie a long look, and held out her arm again for Lizzie to take. Heaving a world weary sigh, Lady Catherine said, “That’s the thing about young people. No compunction about wasting time. Now, Miss Bennet, I wonder if you would advise me on some changes I wish to make to my rockery.” The two women walked on.

Lizzie returned to Meryton early the next morning, and launched right into more work, straight through the weekend. It wasn’t until Friday afternoon that she was able to come up for air. Charlie and Jane were expected for dinner at Longbourn, and were to stay at Netherfield for the rest of the week. Apparently construction was going quite well, and the interior designers wanted to begin plans for the rooms. Jane arranged for a few days free and Mrs. Bennet had plans to spoil her and show her off to the neighbors, namely the Lucases. The Gardiners were even to come for dinner on the weekend. Mrs. Bennet bemoaned the fact that baby showers weren’t really done in England, and how her mother had thrown her the most delightful shower when she had been pregnant with Jane, before the Bennets had left the States. A big family dinner with all the family gathered on Saturday would have to do.

After a full morning of processing invoices, chatting with clients, and haggling with a cranky supplier, Lizzie was wiped out. Still, she made her way over to the house, where her mother was in full force, cooking and baking. Peeking through to the dining room, she could see Kitty and Lydia out on the veranda, stringing fairy lights over the tables, laughing and arguing. Mr. Bennet’s office door was closed, and Mary was sitting on the living room floor at the coffee table, furiously typing and glancing over at a large textbook. _Home._

“Mum, I’ll just have a quick bite then I’ll come back to help prepare, okay?” Lizzie stepped to the refrigerator and pulled out the makings of a sandwich.

“Oh, fine, fine, Sweetie,” said Mrs. Bennet. “I thought cupcakes would be a nice touch, would you make those?”

“I thought there was going to be pie? Jane’s favourite?”

“Well, there will be banoffee pie, but I thought there should also be cupcakes. I just want it to feel festive. Just in case anybody has any announcements to make, or anything.”

“Well, they’ve already announced a baby, Mum, what’s left for them to say?”

“Oh, millions of things. Could be anything. I just have a feeling.”

Lizzie heaved a sigh, setting the food down on the counter. “Mum, Mum, Mum. I don’t know how you come up with this stuff, but you do have a sixth sense. What kind of cupcakes?”

The Gardiners showed up in late afternoon on Saturday, and Charlie and Jane arrived not long after. Everybody exclaimed over Jane’s belly, which had grown prodigiously since Lizzie had last seen her. Mr. Bennet presided over the grill, and Kitty and Lydia mixed batches of cocktails, while Mrs. Bennet, Mary, and Lizzie carried dish after dish out to the tables. The Gardiner kids raced around the field just beyond the house and Uncle Edward and Charlie got caught up in a long, confusing conversation about how baseball worked that had Lizzie and Jane in hysterical giggles. They were the only Bennets Uncle Edward had managed to convert into baseball fans. As the night wore on and the stars came out, Jane looked at Charlie, and he nodded and stood. Clinking his knife against his glass, Charlie got the party’s attention, and Mrs. Bennet smirked knowingly at Lizzie.

“Everyone, if you don’t mind, just a quick word,” Charlie called, and the Bennets and Gardiners quieted down and looked over at Charlie. “I’d like to thank you all for welcoming me so kindly into your family. My own family’s grown so small over the years, with my parents passing…” His voice trailed off, and Lizzie wondered if he was thinking of Caroline -- she didn’t know if Charlie was speaking to his sister yet. “Well, anyway, it’s been wonderful to be here tonight. And I’m so happy and grateful for Jane, and our little baby soon to come. I don’t only want to thank you for having me and welcoming me so kindly. I also want to let you know that I’ve asked Jane to marry me, and she said yes.”

The whole party erupted into cheers and woops. Mrs. Bennet immediately started crying and came over to hug both Jane and Charlie. Lizzie bit back the desire to yell “It must have been the cupcakes that did it, Mum!” The family was throwing questions at the couple, and Jane finally got a word in. “We’re going to be married in two weeks at the church here.”

“Two weeks?” Asked Aunt Maggie. “That means you had to give notice at least two weeks ago. When did you register?”

Jane looked down, smiling. “Charlie asked me just a couple of days after leaving the hospital. So we went and registered, and decided to think it over. So that was, what? About three weeks back? We have twelve months until the notice expires, but I told him yesterday that I don’t need twelve months. I know already that I never want to be parted from him again.”

This brought a fresh round of sobs from Mrs. Bennet, and Mr. Bennet came over and shook Charlie’s hand very cordially, and drew him into conversation. Jane stepped around the table to Lizzie, who had tears in her eyes. “Will you be my Maid of Honour, Lizzie Lou?”

“Of course I will, you sly thing! I’m so happy for you — I have so many questions! But right now, let’s just be happy and enjoy this. Okay, just one. Did you _really_ go and get registered right after leaving hospital? How did you keep it a secret?” Jane just laughed and shrugged and they joined the fray of their happy relatives talking over plans.

It turned out that half of what Jane and Charlie were in Meryton to do was meet with a wedding coordinator to prepare Netherfield for the reception. The hotel wasn’t ready for guests, but the ballroom, which had been converted into a huge open area for meditation and yoga classes that could be converted right back to a party space for events, was just waiting for a wedding reception. Lizzie came over one day to see how the plans were proceeding, and she admired the work Will and his team had done. The past was honoured, the future was welcomed. She peeked in at the industrial kitchen where she and Will had bantered all those months back and saw the efficient work zones and gleaming metal surfaces, just waiting to turn out plate after plate of elegant spa food. Netherfield was coming together like a dream.

It was to be a simple party, only about 75 or so guests. The ceremony was to be held in the old parish church below in Meryton, and the weather had been so fine this spring that they were going to set up half in and half out — the ballroom for dining, the terrace for dancing and drinks. Charlie and Jane had already worked out nearly everything from the food to the music, and the wedding coordinator was wrapping up decor details — flowers, flowers everywhere. While Jane and the coordinator discussed the placement of the tables on the terrace, Charlie pulled Lizzie aside. “You know, Lizzie, Will is going to be my best man. Will that be okay with you? I don’t know where things are between the two of you.”

Lizzie wasn’t sure what to say, or what Charlie knew. “Uh, sure. That’s fine. I don’t really know either, but I can be an adult about it.” Did Charlie think she’d ruin the wedding? Or be too heartbroken to stand up for her sister?

“I’m glad. Will took some convincing. He still feels so bad. I told him it’s water under the bridge, but, you know. He’s going to hold onto it for a while.”

“You mean he feels too guilty to be a part of your ceremony?” Lizzie wished she could add _Or he wants so badly not to have to see me again that he almost said no to being your Best Man?_

“Oh, aye. I wouldn’t say Will’s a perfectionist. Maybe I’d say he beats himself up fairly hard when he doesn’t live up to his own standards. Anyway. I’m glad you’re going to be there. I’m glad to have you as a new sister.” He leaned over and put an arm around Lizzie, and angled her toward the expansive lawn behind Netherfield. “We never did finish talking about the landscape. Maybe after the honeymoon?”

She looped her arm around his waist and gave him a quick squeeze. “Absolutely.”

Jane had asked Lizzie to buy a navy colored dress, any style she wanted, and to pair it with silver shoes. Lizzie drove up to London to get final approval on the look. Lydia and Kitty along with a couple of friends from the salon were to prepare the whole family of women for the big day, and Lizzie was to drop off a few sketches of a hair design for Jane to choose from. Jane could wear a beanie over her head and still look beautiful, Lizzie thought as Jane examined Kitty’s willowy ink sketches. She chose a loose braid tucked with small sprigs of baby’s breath. Kitty told Lizzie whatever Jane picked, Kitty would create something complementary for her. Their two youngest sisters decided that they were going to pump up their own side hustle as a hair and makeup team for weddings into something full time, and Lizzie and Jane would be the primary picture on the website they were building. Lizzie related this all as she changed into her bridesmaid dress. Charlie had been given express orders to stay away from the bedroom, as Jane would also show Lizzie her own dress.

Jane smoothed the ethereal floaty knee-length skirt of Lizzie’s navy dress. It had a strappy v-neck, not cut too deep, and Jane had found a lovely vintage rhinestone teardrop necklace and matching earrings to go with and presented them to Lizzie as a gift. “I saw these in an antique shop, and I knew you’d love them.” Jane fastened the necklace around Lizzie’s neck while Lizzie put in the crystal drop earrings. “I do love them, thank you — they’re lovely. They look great with the dress, and even match the shoes.” Lizzie stepped into her delicate high heeled silver sandals. “Ooof,” she said looking down. “I’ll get a pedicure, I promise.”

“Oh, stop. Nobody could be prettier. You don’t have to gild the lily,” Jane said. “You’ll have a lovely bouquet of blush and white peonies, with a silver ribbon.” She paused. “Will is going to wear a navy suit and a silver tie, and we’ll have a boutonnière of a small pink peony for him and a white one for Charlie.” They were quiet as Jane adjusted the back of Lizzie’s dress, not meeting each other’s eyes in the mirror on the back of the bedroom door.

“Are you nervous about seeing him, Lizzie Lou?”

Lizzie let out a little sigh. “I don’t know if I’m nervous. I’m sad. I’m sorry that it didn’t work out.”

“Do you wish it would? Work out, I mean. Are you still interested?”

“I am, yeah,” she fidgeted with her earrings.

“Well, if I can be frank, darling, I think you’re going to have to make the first move. But I also think he really really wants you to,” Jane fidgeted with Lizzie’s hair, smoothing into a waterfall down her back. Lizzie needed a haircut, but Kitty wouldn’t allow it until after the wedding.

“Why do you say so?” Lizzie asked.

“I think Will and I are quite alike. We both have deep feelings, but we tend to keep them to ourselves. But we have our tells.”

“Such as?” Lizzie watched Jane work her hair into a loose braid.

“Well, for me, I know I get very quiet. I feel like Bashful from _Snow White._ There were times in the beginning of our relationship where I could barely stand to make eye contact with Charlie -- I was so happy and so sheepish.” Lizzie and Jane looked at the hairstyle she’d mocked up, and Lizzie shook her head. “No, I agree. A braid isn’t right with this dress,” said Jane, and she started to tease it apart with her fingers, tender of her healing wrist in its brace. Her doctor had reluctantly agreed that she could take it out for the wedding ceremony and pictures, but should put it back on as soon as possible. 

“What’s Will’s tell?” Lizzie asked, gathering up half of her hair and doing a sloppy little bun. Jane went to grab hairpins from her nightstand and handed them to Lizzie as she worked her hair into a half updo.

“I think he tries to do things for people he likes,” Jane said. Lizzie thought back to Will’s behavior at Rosings. The way he’d guided her to Charlotte and Bill’s property. She thought about Pemberley, and how he’d insisted on showing her the grounds, and inviting the Gardiners to dinner. 

“I think that might be right,” Lizzie granted. “But he’s not doing anything right now.”

“Well, he got Charlie to me. He apologized to me for his interference, and brought flowers every few days of my bed rest. He’s making that fort for Andrew and Stella.”

Lizzie’s arms dropped down and she turned to look at Jane. Half the updo flopped out its pins and over her face. “What?” she asked Jane.

“Yeah, that’s where he was going to dinner that day you came over. He went to the Gardiners’. He literally drew blueprints for the kids’ fort, it was the cutest thing. Will told Aunt Maggie he’d build it with Uncle Edward the next time they go up to Lambton. I thought you knew that.”

“Jesus, no! I did _not_ know that!” Lizzie looked flummoxed, and she moved past Jane to sit down hard on the bed. “Why didn’t he tell me all of these things? Why do them in the first place?”

Jane walked over to Lizzie and cupped her cheek. “Why do you think, Lizzie?” Jane gave her a penetrating, tender look.

“He did it for me. Because I love all of you. And it’s something kind that he can do,” Lizzie practically whispered.

“Acts of service. That’s how he shows love,” Jane let go of Lizzie’s cheek.

“And me. How should I show him love back?” Lizzie looked dazed.

“The way you show all of us love. See him. And be brave enough to tell him the truth,” Jane said. 


	21. In the Middle Before I Knew I'd Begun

Lizzie reworked her jobs so she had a couple of days free before the wedding. She treated herself and Jane to facials and pedicures at a spa in London, and personally drove Jane’s wedding outfit back to Longbourn. Lizzie’s room would be the site of the bridal dressing room, and Kitty and Lydia’s rooms would be the salon. She cleaned and tidied her space, prepared every single thing that either she or Jane could need, laying it out with surgical precision. She steamed Jane’s wedding dress herself. Charlie and Jane took Mr. and Mrs. Bennet out for dinner in Meryton the night before the ceremony. He dropped her off with a kiss at the front door of Longbourn. Lydia and Kitty were too busy preparing their workspaces to catcall them. Jane smiled serenely at Charlie, then walked right upstairs to Lizzie’s room, where she would spend her last night as a single woman. Jane was apparently exhausted and had no trouble sleeping. Lizzie stretched out on the airbed and tried everything to force her mind to be calm, to fall asleep and let her body prepare for the next day, when Jane would be married, and she would get to see Will again. Nothing was working. Finally, she decided to get up and move around.

Lizzie wound up downstairs in the kitchen. She walked to the boot room and put on her Wellies and a light coat, and stepped outside. The stars were winking at her, and the crescent moon sat high in the sky. Lizzie made her way over to a bench at the edge of the garden. Her mind didn’t want to be still, so she forced herself to do Jane’s breathing exercises while she regarded the lovely moon, and finally, she felt her heart calm. Finally, she felt tired enough to go back in. Lizzie stood and said out loud, “A man doesn’t build a fort for the cousins of a woman he’s not in love with. All will be well.” She walked back upstairs and settled back down on the airbed, her exhaustion falling over her like a curtain. She dreamt in snippets: peonies, stars, crescent moons, Will.

The next afternoon, after a long morning of being bossed around by Kitty and Lydia, Mr. Bennet drove Lizzie and Jane down to the church in Meryton. They watched as a few guests in brightly coloured hats and dresses made their way through the entrance to the old stone church, and Mr. Bennet turned to look at Jane in the backseat. “Well, my darling girl, it’s been a funny road to walk, but here we are. Are you ready?”

Jane smiled and nodded, and Lizzie hopped out of the front seat to help her sister out. Jane’s dress was empire waisted to accommodate her lovely pregnant belly. The fabric was airy white taffeta, and as she stepped out of the car, Lizzie gathered up the skirt to keep it safe from dragging on the ground. The bust was modestly cut, but showed off Jane’s buxom figure, and topped off in lace cap sleeves covered in seed pearls. Jane had elected not to wear a veil, for which Kitty did a victorious fist pump -- the beautiful loose braid tucked with small sprigs of baby’s breath was on display to full advantage. For something old, Jane had pearl earrings she’d found in an antique shop. For something borrowed, she had Mrs. Bennet’s diamond bracelet. For something blue, she had a handkerchief embroidered by Aunt Maggie with little blue forget-me-nots. For something new, she had Fig Bennet Bingley. Name temporary only, of course.

Lizzie followed behind Mr. Bennet and Jane, holding the wedding dress skirt aloft, smiling an idiotic grin. It was hard to imagine a happier ending to the unhappy path Jane and Charlie had been led down, only to find their way back to each other. When they reached the church vestibule, the wedding coordinator stood waiting and smiling to pass out bouquets. Mrs. Bennet was to be escorted down the aisle by a cousin of Charlie’s. She pressed a cheek to Jane’s, not wanting to leave a lipstick mark, and whispered something quietly that made her oldest daughter smile and say, “Oh, Mum. I will.” The music began, and Mrs. Bennet led the way down the aisle, smiling proudly. Next followed Andrew, with the wedding bands held to their pillow with one loose stitch each -- there was no way they could go astray this way. Then came Stella with a basket of peony petals, smiling nervously. The wedding coordinator stood at the door to the congregation with her hand held up, pausing Lizzie until it was the right moment. Lizzie took the opportunity to reach back and give Jane’s hand a squeeze. Lizzie gave her a quick smile before the coordinator gave her a light touch on the shoulder and quietly said, “Okay, Miss Lizzie. You’re up!”

Lizzie felt like she was moving underwater. She knew she smiled, from seeing pictures later. She watched the faces of friends and family as she stepped down the aisle: the Lucases, Bill and Charlotte, friends from school, the Longs. She saw Louisa and Rob Hurst on Charlie’s side, but no Caroline. She saw a few men in kilts. She saw Charlie up at the altar in his kilt. And just to his left, she saw Will, his face serious. Patience, she told herself. There will be time to get this right. She smiled at the Vicar, and Will and Charlie, and stepped into her spot and turned to watch Jane and her father. The congregation stood when the bridal march began. Lizzie heard Charlie choke out a small sob, and watched him swallow it down, wipe at his eyes, and smile as Jane floated toward him. Mr. Bennet kissed Jane’s cheek and handed her over. The Vicar made people chuckle here and there. Andrew walked up solemnly with his tiny pillow. Charlie pulled Jane into a dipped kiss and the congregation roared. The recessional music began, and the bride and groom walked back down the aisle to a still clapping and cheering crowd.

All of it was a blur to Lizzie until Will held out his arm for her to take. She let him lead her out the front doors of the church, around to the side under a small tent where a glowing Jane and Charlie stood waiting. There they waited for the wedding guests to gather on the front steps of the church to watch the bridal party exit properly into cars, and to throw more peony petals. Stella made her way to the tent, where she promptly ran to hug Will. Andrew followed behind and snuggled into Lizzie’s side. Charlie’s cousin Stuart -- one of the kilt-wearers -- came sneaking in with a bottle of whisky and a few paper cups. He poured one out for everybody but Jane and the children, and they toasted to the day. Lizzie watched Will. He seemed bewildered, but not unhappy. Again, she smiled to herself. Patience.

The wedding coordinator had distributed the petals to guests, and sneaked the bridal party back through the church to walk through the door. Stella had lost her nerves and ran through the doors, waving her arms and spinning in the fluttering petals. Will offered his arm to Lizzie again, and she threaded her own through his, looking him squarely in the eye, and smiling her dippiest, most loving smile at him. She felt him relax against her, saw him visibly loosen, and he smiled back at her. They walked through the doors, petals flurrying around them. They joined Stella at the end of the path of guests. Aunt Maggie was there, with a knowing smile. She handed Will and Lizzie their own little pouches of petals, and they turned to watch the exit of the bride and groom.

The crowd roared again for Jane and Charlie as they stepped through the church doors. Unable to control himself, Charlie swooped Jane up into his arms, carrying her down the path, letting petals bombard him, never losing his footing. He only set her down once they reached the chauffeured vintage Rolls Royce limousine, kissing Jane again while she laughed. They waved to the crowd, and got into the car. Lizzie and Will waved and got into the car behind them. Stella threw kisses to the crowd and bounced in after them, squeezing herself in between Lizzie and Will. When Lizzie looked through the window, she saw Andrew climbing the stone fence of the church with a little boy in a kilt. Guess he’d make his own way over to Netherfield. “Can you believe you were ever nervous, Stella?” said Lizzie. Stella only beamed up at them.

There wasn’t a moment of quiet for Lizzie to speak to Will. She had to help Jane tidy herself up again, then there were pictures to be taken around the property as the crowd started to filter into Netherfield. Stella made her way back to Aunt Maggie and Uncle Edward. The wedding party was announced and they sat down to toasts and dinner. There was the first dance, silly and sweet, and at Mrs. Bennet’s insistence, Mr. Bennet and Jane had a father-daughter dance. It wasn’t until the cake was cut and served, that Lizzie took her opportunity.

Will watched her go up to the DJ’s table, where they had a quick conversation. He watched her meander back to the table where they’d been sitting with Jane and Charlie. Lizzie walked up to Will and asked, “Could I have the next dance?”

“Of course,” Will said, smiling. He stood up and straightened his silver tie and buttoned his navy suit jacket.

They made it out to the floor right as the old song ended and the new song began. Well, the old new song. It was Stevie Wonder’s “My Cherie Amour”. Will smiled a little deeper and opened his arms to Lizzie, who stepped right in. He began that same little relaxed rumba step, and she followed, feeling a victorious happiness thrumming inside her body as they relaxed into the rhythm of the song. “I thought we could use a do-over,” she explained to Will.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Will said. They took a few more steps and he led her in a small spin. “What parts do you wish we’d done differently?”

Lizzie was thoughtful. “I wish I’d let you be sweet to me when I could tell you wanted to,” she said.

“I wish I’d been sweet to you right away. I was a total idiot.”

“Not a total idiot. Only a partial one.”

“I wish I’d apologized for what you overheard at the Harvest Festival. More than that, I wish I’d never said it in the first place,” Will looked pained and Lizzie moved in a little bit closer, and broke the rumba pattern. Will moved his arms out of the frame he’d been holding and wrapped Lizzie up in them. He began moving her in a rhythmic sway from side to side.

“I wish I’d confronted you about it. Maybe we could have moved past it faster...Part of why I didn’t was that I liked you. I didn’t realize it until after Rosings. I was in the middle before I knew I’d begun.”

“Did you really?” Will looked surprised, and Lizzie nodded. “I liked you, too, pretty much right away.” he said softly. “I was just in a bad mood that day I met you. Georgie says I have Resting Bitch Face. It’s the first time in my life that it’s had such a potentially horrible impact on my happiness. I’ll try to work on that.” Lizzie laughed at that and they swayed together again, happy.

“I wouldn’t really do any of it over,” Lizzie said after a moment. “We wouldn’t be the same two people if we hadn’t done it the same way. And I very much like the man standing in front of me, just as he is right now. Warts and all. I bet it’s the same for you. I’m a hothead, but nobody on the planet will love you more fiercely than I will.”

Will squeezed her to him. “Nobody on the planet will appreciate your spirit more than I do, Lizzie.”

“You called me Lizzie!” She beamed up at him.

“Do you prefer it? It’s how I’ve always thought of you. Calling you ‘Elizabeth’ was one more way to create distance. Then I didn’t know how to stop,” he explained.

“Everybody who loves me calls me ‘Lizzie’,” she said with a shrug.

“Then you’re my Lizzie,” he said, squeezing her tighter still. “Do we have any more wedding responsibilities tonight?”

“Well, let’s think,” she said, smiling into his chest. “First dances are over, cake has been served, and everybody is just the right amount of drunk,” said Lizzie, gesturing over to some of the Scotsmen over in the corner, toasting Charlie and slapping him on the back. “So, I think we could sneak away for a bit. Where could we go?”

“As it happens, I know the bloke who designed this place. There’s a nice cozy corner not too far away,” Will said. They let the song finish playing, and walked off the dance floor, hand in hand.

On the way out, Will stopped at the bar and slipped one of the bartenders some cash and in return got two glasses and a bottle of Champagne. As they walked away from the bar, Lizzie tilted her head up at him questioningly. Will explained simply, “This is the happiest night of my life so far. I want to celebrate.”


End file.
